Aldnoah Zero 2: A Loose Novelization
by Timothy Bourbon Belmonte III
Summary: A man loses a bet and comes up with the ultimate plan: To novelize an anime to appease the wishes of his abusive subconscious. Can he make it in time?
1. Chapter 1

"Nothing excites my tits more than interplanetary warfare." – Me, just now

It had been 19 months since the attack at the United Forces of Earth headquarters, where the casualties ranged to the thousands while the fatalities had to be measured with decimals. While victorious, the Earth forces found themselves splintered thanks to a constant assault of customized mecha. Take one robot down, and another one just pops up. No one ever factors in the costs of making the damn machines. They get shipped and blown up as often as the CEO on his way to Bangkok. Maybe there will be a family mourning the dear loss of a pilot, but as previous tales show, "family man" and "robot pilot" seldom mix. A sad pattern, but it makes the expendability of these soldiers all the more routine.

Let us see this triviality in action at the Satellite Belt, where three Andalusian soldiers have been patrolling in their Kataphrakts for the past few hours.

"I've got a joke," Andalusia 11 said. "How many eggs does a chicken lay to avoid getting cooked in a pie?"

Andalusia 22 and 33 bared little of a response to their captain.

"A baker's dozen. Come on, you guys get it?"

"We got it," Andalusia 22 said. "Doesn't mean it was funny."

"But jokes are funny if you get them."

"Only if they're smart jokes."

"That was smart."

"Number jokes aren't always smart," Andalusia 33 said. "You can't just use wordplay any kid can do in their head. You have to aim higher than that. You've got to do it stealthily."

"But I was stealthy. Baker's dozen is thirteen, and thirteen's unlucky, so—"

"No, I get that. But why does the chicken avoid getting baked in a pie if it lays an unlucky number? Shouldn't it be doomed if it lays 13?"

Andalusia 11 groaned. "See, space is hard enough as it is to deal with. I get stuck here with you two for hours on minimum wage, and this is the shit I deal with. Can't a guy unstress himself with some jokes without playing to a tough crowd?"

"Then come up with something funny," Andalusia 22 said while attempting to stretch his legs in whatever space his cockpit allowed.

Andalusia 11 stared through the window of his Kataphrakt. "Okay, what about sex jokes?"

"Sex jokes?"

"Commander," Andalusia 33 said. "You don't need to go that route."

"No, sex as in gender, like 'when women buy shoes, it's a picnic, when men buy shoes, it's a death march' jokes—"

"Commander, I don't want to hear death march jokes when we're still in the middle of a war."

"But I'm not doing that, I was just using an example."

"Fuck examples," Andalusia 22 said. "Just do it or don't."

"And I can't do jokes without you two mouthing off! Now here it goes. I'm remembering what 33 said a second ago, about the chicken laying the egg, and I can remember his mouth refer to chickens as 'it' instead of 'she'."

"So?"

"So usually, it's only the lady chickens that lay eggs. Male chickens, they only have the equipment to fertilize those eggs instead of making their own. Don't need to be a schoolteacher with their head in a biology textbook to know that. But I heard a story about one male chicken who could lay eggs, and you two may know him, because—"

In that interruption, the Andalusia pilots received a signal from their cockpits, showing an enemy speeding to their location. Andalusia 11 sighed and took his guns out to prepare for attack. 22 and 33 were covering each other's backs while also loading up their arms. Perhaps they could use the Satellite Belt to their advantage, 11 thought. They knew how to fly through asteroids better than anyone, so they could throw their enemy straight into a collision course that way.

Before they could enact that plan, a barrage of shots went through Andalusia 33, killing him instantly. Andalusia 11 grit his teeth, both at losing a comrade and not being able to spell out his joke for his subordinate. More rounds went into 33, reducing his armor into a great dust cloud. The debris from 33's Kataphrakt spread and fogged 11 and 22's vision, forcing them to rely on their radars to see. They could detect the enemy nearby, circling them like a vulture taunting its prey. He moved too fast on the radar, making 11 hesitate shooting back for fear of revealing themselves. 22, on the other hand, shot where he thought the enemy went, trying to predict the right point for which he'll reveal himself.

The dust cleared to reveal the enemy, shinier than a fresh swiss army knife. Covered with armor and golden highlights, it looked more at home inside a tycoon's mansion than out on the battlefield. The price of ten, maybe even twenty, of the Andalusia Kataphrakts probably wouldn't match this machine. The instrument's beauty was matched by its savagery, tearing 22 apart with a close-range gun. Andalusia 11 looked back and fired wildly, trying to do as much damage as he could to the enemy to make up for the loss of his forces. The shields on the enemy Kataphrakt's arms blocked some of the shots, and without a hint of damage on either piece of armor. The remains of 22's armor took the brunt of the hits. 11 kept firing, but such an assault couldn't keep the enemy from striking him down as quickly as his friends. Maybe these shots could slow him down a little, giving Andalusia 11 at least a few more seconds of life. The enemy used the shield on his right arm to pierce 11's cockpit, shredding through it like paper. Andalusia 11 could not even get a breath's moment to react to the strike. One move, and his senses were all blacked out. With no reinforcements in sight, the enemy Kataphrakt flew back to its fleet. And so was the death of Andalusia 11 plus two.

Like I said, expendable.

x x x

"I like blue skies because of how blue they are, and you can't tell why…"

This rambling was broadcast throughout both worlds to promote solidarity for the Martians in their conquest of whatever remained of Earth. One day out of the week, a sedated princess in her wheelchair would go up on a panel and speak on how pretty the Earth is, and why it's so valuable that the Vers Empire has to take it for themselves. Wanting to conquer a planet because blue is a prettier color than red may seem to be a delirious reason for warfare, but try saying that next time your city gets bombed because a terrorist doesn't like the color yellow.

The princess' broadcast elicited reactions ranging from "Change the channel" to "Would she feel it if I sucked on her toes?" One group of watchers took a shot every time she mentioned the word "blue". There was one person watching it with utmost attention, trying to look through the princess' wording as evidence for something far grimmer. She normally wouldn't do this with any official broadcast, but this girl had been her friend. Seeing a friend propped up on a podium and made to speak propaganda chilled her more than the sight of any other stoic, pseudo-German dictating their next campaign.

Inko decided she had seen enough and turned off the video on her phone. After months of watching, that feeling of personal betrayal dimmed into a bit of one-sided loathing, then into something to keep herself awake, then into something to watch because nothing else was on. Due to the war, luxuries had been on an all-time low. No longer could you enjoy fine dining while seeing your favorite internet celebrity talk about their private parts. Now, it was all scratching and surviving.

"Yo, Inko?" Rayet said behind her. "Pass me some of that caviar."

Inko rolled her eyes as she gave Rayet the whole can. Didn't matter to her, since they had those by the bulk back at the ship anyway. Rayet took a chunk of the fish eggs and guzzled it all down. Truly, these girls were living in the new Depression.

Inko and Rayet were spending time at Kalaku Beach, the wonderland for those wanting to soak those toes in lukewarm water. Kalaku Beach features such fascinations as sand, rocks, and more sand. This hotspot used to cater to the local schoolchildren before the war tensed up again. A little boy could dog paddle in the water as Kataphrakts gunned each other down just a few blocks away. Rumors say that the sand from this beach is actually the ash of the children who tried to have a last skinny dip before being nuked by the Martians, so that sandcastle you're making could really be the remains of a simple-minded toddler.

"I still don't get why we're doing this," Inko said. "This whole beach stuff."

"To relax," Rayet said while wiggling her toes in the ocean.

"After almost dying for the last two years?"

"A bitch can't get time to stretch?"

"Hey, I want to relax just as much as you, but not when killer robots keep attacking us. I can't even take a moment to breathe without some guy in a giant purple suit trying to blow us up."

"But we survived."

"…may I remind you of that one robot with the giant hands? We would have died if it weren't for that one guy."

"But we didn't die, so that's all right."

"But what if we do one day?"

"Stop thinking about dying, Ink. If you didn't die the last twenty times we got attacked by Kataphrakts, what makes you think we'll die the next time? We've got luck on our side, luck and your emotionally stunted boyfriend watching our backs."

"But maybe it'll be like with New Orleans. One day, you're celebrating Mardi Gras. The next, you're nothing about but a Hiroshima lover wannabe."

Rayet leaned back to let the sun's rays on her body. "They didn't die because they were partying, they died because they were too stupid to get backup. We, Inko, have backup. Now just this once, calm your tits and enjoy the beach. We're not gonna get more days than this soon after, you know?"

Inko growled, at Rayet for her nonchalance and at herself for expecting any more. "Says you. I wasn't the one who tried to strangle the princess."

"Hey! I changed. And may I remind you that my strangling her probably did us a favor in the Aldnoah department?"

"But you didn't mean to do that?"

"Gotta think mindfulness, Ink. Can't live life thinking there's some plan. Sometimes, life's like happy accidents."

"And happy accidents are why you tried to kill Asseylum?"

"Happy at the time, sure. Mindfulness, Inko."

"Do you even know what mindfulness is? Or is it just going to be something you're going to hawk at me until I stop talking?"

"Not like the dictionary definition, if you keep insisting on the specifics, and don't even try looking the meaning up on your phone. Mindfulness is what you feel, not what it means. That philosophical mumbo-jumbo's what separates us from the Martians."

"But you are a Martian."

Rayet stood up from the water and walked to Inko, looking at her eye-to-eye. For a second, Inko was nervous as to what Rayet might do to her. "Don't go on about what might happen, because it's not right now. We're not dying, or cornered, or running away. We're on the beach."

Inko sighed and took a sip out of her soda. She took her time drinking so she wouldn't have to talk to Rayet for a while. Maybe she shouldn't be paranoid when she's managed to survive the last two years. But in her mind, it was like a coin flip. You could toss the coin and get heads ten times in a row, but there will always be that encroaching realization that it'll be tails eventually. That was what she thought about these battles. They could win ten consecutive times, but one loss was all that it took to become nothing but a blood splatter.

That thought process was interrupted when Inko heard something crunch.

"Huh. Inko, I think I just stepped on a tooth."

Inko groaned and stared out into the open, as Rayet plucked a clod shaped like a molar out of her foot.

x x x

The Kataphrakt that spread Andalusian blood flew into the Vers ship, landing on a hangar bay lined to the teeth with other Kataphrakts waiting to be sued for battle. If not for the turbines, it could be confused for a shining knight in armor making its return while the serfs and vassals celebrate his conquest. Maybe after killing some deadbeat warriors, he could come back home to celebrate with a feast and pretend it's all Valhalla from here on out. But it's not those times. Serfs and vassals have been replaced with a count, a lieutenant, and a figurehead. Armor has been done away with in favor of mechanical arms. And the shining knight can certainly not be used to describe the pilot himself.

The Kataphrakt kneeled as the cockpit opened. The pilot came out, giving a few seconds of fanfare before the grim realization that it was little Slaine Troyard who became the special pilot of the Martian fleet. It would be like a child expecting a Happy Meal from their parents, but only to receive a cabbage instead. And not even a cooked cabbage too, but a raw one the child would be expected to gnaw on like some kind of rabbit. Just think of the stone cold expression on that child's face, and paint that on your dear narrator as Slaine appears. He even does a bow for his count as if he just pulled off a stunt at the Olympics. Bastard.

"You're back," Count Saazbaum said, wrinkles on his face appearing as he attempted to smile. "Sir Slaine, I'm here to introduce you to our new friends."

"Please," Slaine said. "You don't need to call me 'sir'. Just call me 'Slaine' like my friends do."

"If you had any friends," Saazbaum whispered.

"I heard that."

"Well in place of calling you 'Sir Slaine', I could always call you 'Kentucky Fried Slaine'."

"Count—"

"Or Raising Slaine's."

"Count—"

"Or Slaine Fil-A—"

"Sir! I get it!"

"One of the few luxuries I'm allowed, Sir Slaine."

Slaine noticed the man next to Saazbaum, beady-eyed and in that blue suit Slaine used to wear all those years ago. He could even smell his odor on that uniform, pardon for the readers who now have to imagine what Slaine smells like.

"A pleasure to meet you," he said. "I'm Harklight, your new lieutenant."

"And a pleasure to—"

"Oh gosh! I've been collecting things on the Internet about you. Enough to fill a Russian novel, one of those old Russian novels, not the new ones you can find as e-books, like the really old ones that can cause brain damage if they fell on your head, and it's such a fricking honor to finally meet numero uno in person!"

Another way for the Count to taunt me, Slaine thought. He could have gotten any competent ensign to serve his will, and Saazbaum just had to hire the loon who will quite literally ride Slaine's coattails. Just because they were allies didn't mean they had to be friends after all. But a young man need not decline the offer of a willing servant, as long as they are housebroken. Slaine did wonder why they couldn't hire a more attractive lieutenant, like someone with darling blue eyes and long locks of blonde hair. He desired the kind of person who could take several bullets if he so wanted them to. Alas, it's hard to find another person like that in so short a lifetime.

"But that's not all," Saazbaum said. "I want to introduce you to a little lady who's been aching to see you."

Being a knight didn't always mean acquiring a harem, but it was appreciated. Slaine, Harklight, and Saazbaum walked through the halls of the ship, full of windows revealing the images of outer space. They could look out and see the Alpha Centauri, the Kuiper Belt, the rings of Saturn, some comets a bunch of cultists claimed as their own, and Wheatley. It was truly an astronomer's dream, and an astrologist's wet dream.

"Who am I meeting?" Slaine asked.

"Oh, a lady."

"What kind of lady?"

They met the lady.

"Oh, that kind of lady."

Wheelchair-bound and requiring assistance from her predecessor's servant, the princess greeted the three with her presence, clasping her hands and showing no hint of a smile.

"May I introduce you to the lovely Princess Lemrina?" Saazbaum said.

"Wait, I thought Asseylum didn't have sisters?"

"We didn't know either, but she just popped up, and since we've been needing a way to rally the soldier, it proved a nice gift."

"It?" Lemrina asked.

"Okay, she. You don't have to be so uptight just because you can't stand upright."

Slaine wanted to leave to avoid further discussions on disabilities, but that would just worsen the situation. He just stand there and take Saazbaum's handling on physical condition, for better or worse.

"You spend tons of money making stupid robots that get blown up in a week, but you can't make my legs work again?"

"Them's the breaks of military funding," Saazbaum said, his eyes looking through the window to show how much he valued this girl's words. "Besides, cyborg technology is so… on the fritz lately. We can't just go willy-nilly on a teenage girl's legs, or the public will get the wrong idea."

"The same public you killed with chunks of the moon?"

"Just because we kill them doesn't mean we don't care what they think."

The light in Lemrina's eyes further dimmed. "Uh-huh."

She knew the real reason why they couldn't let her walk again, because a girl in a wheelchair making speeches just has that extra spark to tug everyone's heartstrings. They even designed her wheelchair specifically to get that perfect Louisa May Alcott look. Next, they could give her a little puppy with three legs, and a thousand monkeys on a typewriter wouldn't be able to capture that amount of emotional manipulation. "Fuck my life" was a thought that resonated in her body as much as breathing.

"Uh," Slaine said. "Hey."

"What do you want?"

"I, uh, just came here to meet you, and—"

"And what?"

"So, hello?"

"Just get out of my face. Get me away from here, El Dorito."

"Her name's Eddelrittuo."

"Like that name's any less stupid."

Cold as ice, Slaine thought, showing as much care to her as Saazbaum did. He definitely earned the name "Sir" at that moment.

x x x

"Captain, we got an ice robot on our tail!"

The Wadatsumi assault ship focused on their latest trouble, a Kataphrakt shaped like an upside-down lily while standing on sticks. It wasn't exactly something you could imagine on the battlefield without toppling over. The designer must have been watching another show this season to have come up with the idea, and the cold mist surrounding the mecha just gives off the wrong idea. Are you trying to kill your enemies or romance them as if you're the White Witch off to give her followers some Turkish delight?

"So an ice robot," Captain Magbaredge said. "Fire the heat missiles."

"We don't have heat missiles," her bridge crewmember Nina said.

"Fire the submachine guns."

"We gave them to the Kataphrakts."

"Then invent submachine guns!"

"What? Captain, how do I 'invent' something that's already made?"

"You know what I said."

"No, Captain. I don't."

"Well to be more specific, like dismantle parts of the ship and alchemize them into bullets to shoot at the robot."

"Captain, how are we supposed to do that?"

"With the Aldnoah drive."

"That's not how the Aldnoah works, Captain."

"I thought Aldnoah drives were magic!"

"Not that kind of magic, Captain."

"They can make giant robots that say 'fuck you' to global warming, but we can't even get a fancy new gun."

"Sorry to say, Captain."

"But can we at least use something like a laser cannon or whate—"

"Captain… no."

"What about ramming into the guy? Ramming always works, doesn't it?"

Nina shook her head like she was looking at a child who wet herself. "Just no."

Not wanting to lose in a conversation, Magbaredge decide to nitpick on Nina's clothes. "Well… at least I'm not the one wearing a schoolgirl uniform."

"I can't help it. My legs like the breeze that comes from impending doom that an asshat captain started."

"You want me to throw you out the ship? You want to?"

Knowing this was far from the first time her captain said this, Nina replied, "And who do you have to replace me?"

Magbaredge grimaced and said no more.

"So how do we stop it?" Inko asked on the communication signal, firing at the enemy while in an outdated, yet presumably more practical Kataphrakt.

"We have to destroy it," Rayet said as she was also in Inko's situation.

"Well, that's what I implied."

"Can't destroy it at this range though, Ink. Specs say that this fancy machine has something called Entropy Dilution."

"Which is?"

"Something that saps the molecular motion of all matter inside a field one kilometer in radius."

"So it can stop bullets?"

"Yeah."

"Shit."

"Also, it can freeze stuff, because why have one power when you can have two?"

"It's become I'm that well endowed," the enemy Count Yacoym said on the relay. "There's nothing you can do to stop my Frozen Elysium."

"Frozen Elysium? What's next? You guys send the Tangled Chappie at us? If you're going to kill us, at least send a robot with a less stupid name."

Inko squirmed. "Rayet, don't taunt him when he's about to kill us."

"What did I say about how we're not going to die, Ink? If Grimace and Fisty couldn't kill us, how can this guy?"

"Well he's freezing the guy next to us."

The Kataphrakt unit beside Inko and Rayet stood dead as ice covered every centimeter of its armor. The subzero cold pierced right through the exterior and into every single confine of the mecha, with all joints and gears clogged with ice. Even further, the chill went into the cockpit. The soldier couldn't do anything but scream as his communications turned off, his computers shut down, and his the ice formed around his hands to create instant frostbite. It reached all the way into his suit no matter how many layers he was wearing today, freezing his heart and stopping any blood from flowing. And all this from a single ice robot? Central heating be damned!

"So how do we destroy it?" Inko asked.

"Stop," Rayet corrected. "We can only stop it at this point."

"But you just said—"

"I say lots of things I don't fully believe, Ink. Once I said your head wasn't too big."

"Well those will be some fine fucking last words."

Another Kataphrakt joined the battle, same as the ones Inko and Rayet were piloting. It fired a few shots at the Frozen Elysium before stopping, as the pilot contemplated a plan in his head.

"The warheads entered a superconductive state—an event of exactly zero electrical resistance and expulsion of magnetic fields occurring in certain materials when cooled below a critical temperature—and were deflected by the Meissner Effect—an expulsion of a magnetic field from its superconductor. The batter in the warhead froze and the processor locked up, but where does the heat go? Is it shunting the molecular movement energy somewhere else in our dimension? Flight distance for the warheads' electronic timer fuse, about fifty meters should do it. Radius of the field, one kilometer. Yes, twenty rounds."

Count Yacoym called on the relay. "What are you trying to say, newbie?"

"What I'm trying to say is that you're about to die."

Using the brilliant strategy of running and shooting until it works, the Kataphrakt charged and fired a warhead, each one stopping, but conveniently also canceling out the adjective for Count Yacoym's mecha. How unfortunate that he couldn't ask the designer for some arms beforehand to shoot back, or even backup shields. One would believe that testing would have ironed that problem out, but whatever. Defenseless thanks to that flaw, all he could do was sit as the upstart was only a few feet in front of him and shot a warhead point blank.

"And I couldn't even make an ice pun," was Yacoym's last thought before the warhead hit. Where his mecha was originally had become a field of fire, with only the victor distinguishable between the flames. What a showoff.

x x x

After the fire cleared, and any of Yacoym's remains unceremoniously dumped into a nearby lake, the surviving Kataphrakts sat as Magbaredge and her crew landed nearby. Inko ran out of her cockpit and hugged the young dull-eyed man who saved her life.

"You don't listen to me when I say you won't die," Rayet yelled as she tried to catch up. "But you hug Tin Man over here like it's his first time."

"Don't ruin the moment," Inko said under her breath. "Besides, you'll hurt Inaho's feelings."

"What feelings?"

"Ensign Inaho Kaizuka," Inaho said, Inko still grabbing onto him. "Reporting for duty."

"See?"

Inko laughed. "Oh, that's what he always does."

"And you complain when I screw with you."

"That's because you intentionally do that. Inaho can't help it."

Inaho's right eye glowed red, with a spark near his pupil flying out. "Ensign Inaho Kaizuka. Reporting for duty."

"It's his way of saying 'I've missed you.' It's so sweet."

Rayet looked at Inko blushing and did a half-hearted scoff to react. "If you're into knockoff greeting cards."

To be fair to Inaho, he wasn't always like this, and could handle conversations if forced into the job. It's just that he chooses not to. A very thorough explanation about how you have missed your friends and are thankful to see them alive and well takes effort to formulate on the spot, so why not suffice with an automatic phrase? He's already a friend to these people, and with the rare exception they're used to it, so they'll just laugh it off instead of judge him accordingly. Not to mention that they would have died if not for him rushing in, so a young man like that can be allowed to talk to friends as if they were sergeants. Perhaps wartime can also be used to excuse social faux pas, but a few Imperial Japanese soldiers decided that was the case, and look where they ended up.

"So," Inko said to Inaho while twiddling her thumbs. "Seems like you've healed well after the surgery."

"Only because he smooched the Princess," Rayet said while turning her head to look at some of the ice on the ground that still hadn't melted.

"It was only to save her life."

"And save his social life."

"Oh, don't go off at him. You're the reason he was stuck in that mess to begin with."

"And thanks to that, Ink," Rayet raised her arms as if she won an award. "I'm the reason why he's still alive. So I get nitpicking rights."

"But you almost got him killed!"

"Almost, Ink."

"And he saved you just now, and before, and before that too. If anything, you owe him!"

"It is okay," Inaho said. "We are all still alive, and that is what matters."

Rayet spit on the ground. "Oh look, someone updated his random sentence generator."

Inaho chose to ignore that and focus his attention on Inko. "The incident nineteen months ago has still been something I cannot fully get past, and the physical and mental damage is still within clear memory, but… it could have been worse."

"Yeah, just because you're a robot doesn't mean you're artificial in all of the body regions."

"Rayet!" Inko yelled.

"Hey, I said what you've been thinking. Not my fault you can't let your brain say what it wants to."

"Rayet, I thought I told you a year ago to stop with the 'brain' talk."

"Nothing personal. Besides, a round of whiskey could probably do more damage than that headshot. If he's still suffering from some brain surgery, he certainly ain't showing it."

"I am trying to maintain my composure," Inaho said.

"And good for you. If I got shot in the head and lived, I would be eating painkillers like candy."

All of Inaho's nerves tried to focus the muscles in his face to create something resembling a scowl, with the amount of neurotransmitters required to dodge a bullet being used to make a simple facial expression. He failed to say the least. If it was any consolation toward Inaho, his right eye twitched a little. Although, that did not show a sign of disapproval toward Rayet's words as much as it just showed him having a mild eye irritation. Facial communication can be hard when you're not used to the full details. For some people, making the right facial reaction is like toddlers trying to pilot a plane all by themselves. To one person, choosing to smile is a simple action. To others, it's like being in a room full of hundreds of buttons asking you genuinely smile, or half-heartedly smile, or sarcastically smile. And that struggle to react doesn't even factor verbal communication, which is like being forced to solve a thousand equations in a single second if you're not used to it. However, you could always go at it like the great pioneers of human conversation and do whatever comes to mind, like greeting your grandparents by spaying a monkey.

But that pondering on the struggles to speak with others must subside, because Captain Magbaredge ran to the three pilots.

"Kids," she said. "Turn on your phone videos or portable TVs or whatever, because we've got another broadcast."

"Her again?" Inko asked.

"Yeah, also you need to rein Nina in. She's trying to act cute to get away with being a bitch on my ship, and I can't take it anymore."

"She seems okay."

"Bitch. On my ship."

Inko pulled out her phone and went to the video app. "You're not going to get over this?"

"My. Ship."

Inko rolled her eyes, comforting herself with the belief that the Captain will probably die in the next attack. "Fine, fine. I'll talk to her, then."

"Yay. Now phone. Streamy. Now."

On her phone, Inko went to the Vers site and checked the stream. "So why aren't we watching on the screen at the ship?"

"Big screens scare me."

Inko let out a slow breath as the live cast played. Just imagine the fire, she thought. Imagine the fire covering the Captain as she's screaming for help.

"—And the reason why these skies are blue is because of the magic of the wonders of the Earth," the Princess said while continuing to sit at a podium like she was some kind of political pundit, but with slightly more intelligence in her words. "The color blue is the mortal enemy of the color orange, which is the color of the Kataphrakt pilot who ended the use of my legs and made me into what I am now. Let us remember what Italian Prime Minister Eiffel the 65th said about the color blue. I would say them, but I forgot his entire speech. Nevertheless, his words rang true. That brings my attention to the topic of skies. Mars does not have skies, because the sky gods forgot to make a sky for us. That is why Angie and the kids will never be able to experience bright skies on Mars. We need to conquer Earth for their precious blue-sky resource. Otherwise, we will be doomed to over-sachur—

"Saturation," an off-screen voice said to Asseylum as a means to correct her pronunciation.

"Over-saturation of the colors red, yellow, and especially orange. Do you forsake us like you forsook the Plutonians, Earth? I think not. If you do, you will burn like how the nerves in my legs burned into non-existence. That is all."

The video went offline, showing a picture of a puppy wearing earmuffs in its place.

"Why do they always mention blue skies?" Rayet asked. "Like, skies are always blue. That's like saying waxing lyrical about how green grass is."

"The more important question is why she's like this." Magbaredge said. "I thought she was cool with us, not want to conquer us."

"Maybe she was brainwashed," Inko said. "Or lobotomized."

"Like a little Rosemary Kennedy dealio."

"Who's Rosemary Kennedy?"

"An imaginary friend I made up in my head. She serves tea on Sundays."

Hey, after a single tear can resurrect a man, nothing is too stupid.

"Eitherway," Rayet said. "I can see why she fancied Inaho over here. Having them talk to each other now, can't tell who would give up and leave first, if at all."

"Shut up for once," Inko said with her fists clenched.

"It is okay," Inaho said as he continued staring at the phone screen long after everyone stopped paying attention. "What annoys me more is the Princess's assumption regarding blue skies."

"Hmm?"

"It is thanks to the particles in our atmosphere, and human perception of colors that cause the sky to look blue. Blue light waves are shorter than red light waves, causing them to more easily seen by the naked eye. Because it travels as shorter and smaller waves, it is more scattered throughout the sky, making it more easily seen than any other light waves in our atmosphere."

"…Okay."

"I thought I had told the Princess this the last time we had met."

x x x

After the broadcast ended, Sir Slaine Troyard walked to his quarters. Soldiers walked by and occasionally saluted him, and he returned what would look like a salute if a penguin did it. His heart wasn't into that. Instead, it was into what was lying in his room.

He opened the door and turned on the lights, taking a huge whiff of the place to get rid of that outside smell stuck in his nose. This was his territory, away from all that war and bickering and especially that Saazbaum. Rather, he had his princess in a tube.

"Good afternoon, Princess Asseylum," Slaine said to the stasis tube containing the Princess, her mouth covered by a respiration mask and the rest of her body layered in a jumpsuit. "Was today good for you too?"

In his head, he could hear her give detailed memories of what happened, about how she doesn't need to live vicariously through anyone else but Slaine now. In that moment, he felt a wet bulge in his pants, specifically at his backside.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

In the 20th century lived a man named Jeron Criswell King, otherwise known as the Amazing Criswell. He was a stage show psychic who made a living off of Z-grade horror movies and shilling to doomsday cultists. Not a single cent he made wasn't earned from making an indecisive mockery out of the morose. A strong handshake and spit curled hair was his robe and wizard hat, and his psychic readings were his black magic. He was also said to have slept in coffins for fun. Though most of his forecasts proved wildly inaccurate, with Criswell explaining he lost the gift once he tried to make a living out of it, one prediction managed to come true.

On 1960, his good friend and actress Mae West became the US President. Criswell had predicted this early in their relationship, but nobody knew how this could come to pass, not even Mae. She just made a presidential bid because she was drunk at the time. But no matter how unlikely, some kind of force made Criswell's prediction come true this time. Mae West made an intriguing leader for historians to read through, for strengthening the bonds between Russia yet almost igniting thermonuclear war with Wales. One time, she even made a speech in the form of a vaudeville song, and forced her aide to do a donkey show to build solidarity between Mexico.

To make sure her antics could last indefinitely, she launched a coup in the Congress to prolong her stay for four more terms. It wasn't even hard to do, since she fleeced most of the politicians who could do anything to stop her and replaced them with extras from her movies. The rest of the men were seduced with the love only a septuagenarian could invent. When controversy rose over how the public reacted, she said, "When you got the personality, you don't need the majority" and laughed it off like a bad film review. Not a sane woman, she was, not even sane by presidential standards. And her further actions did nothing to vindicate her attitude.

To celebrate her conquest of America, she hijacked the Apollo 17 mission to the moon. The moon always fascinated her, though only for the Frank Sinatra song and little else personally. There was the sentiment in seeing the moon as the kind of pearl that you didn't need to kill oysters to harvest. All you needed to do was ravage and ravish a country. Also, it was free territory no one else was claiming, so that was a bonus. Mae invited the Amazing Criswell onto her adventure, with "invite" used liberally. She would have invited the Vice President to ride with her, but he turned out to be gay. Her advisors warned her that she wasn't fit enough to go the moon, but she couldn't give a rat's ass about any of that. If WC Fields could handle her body, then why can't the moon? She didn't even bother training. Criswell did do a few push-ups before the flight though.

Bringing a team from NASA to do the real work, Mae and Criswell took their flight out of the atmosphere. They landed after a freak detour thanks to Mae's ensuing alcoholism getting in the way. God knows how she managed to get that in the ship. Her physical prowess as genuine as her hair, she took her first step on land that could rival her buttocks in terms of texture. While her team did research, she did the usual sightseeing. Mae committed to the basics, a little trampling on Neil Armstrong's footprint in place of her own, a brief excavation to hide more of her wine, and some pictures that focused more on her face than the stars behind her. She was the only true star, she thought. Only when a supernova can do a decent lap dance could she have reconsidered that boast.

But the flash from her camera made something in the moon react, beams of light appearing to form a circle surrounding Mae West and her crew. The moon's texture suddenly eroded and became a smooth ground littered with shapes not too dissimilar to crop circles. They all surrounded a light at the center, which Mae through a crewmember into just to tickle her whimsy. He appeared to have been vaporized; frightening Criswell and the NASA team while bemusing Mae. She could use this as her personal torture place, she thought. But then, her lackey came back almost as soon as he left. He told them about how it was not a death trap as Mae had thought, but a portal to another planet. He didn't know how this could work, but Mae took the initiative anyway.

"So those domestics with their tinfoil hats were right," she said with a glisten to her face. First, a free moon. Now, a free world. She planned to do to that planet what she did to every man she had met, but with preferably less blood. "This'll be like peeling a grape."

Criswell put his hand on her shoulder. "Listen, my dear friend! You're trifling with something you don't understand. I can feel it in my veins, Mae! Taking advantage of this land will bring great reckoning to the future. I can just see it now, robots the size of buildings, pieces of the moon crashing into the Earth and killing billions, and it's all only the beginning to the testament of vultures! I know my visions are almost always rubbish, but it's so detailed this time, like how I foresaw your election all those years ago. My friend, we have to stop—"

Mae struck her camera onto Criswell's helmet, breaking the glass and allowing him to suffocate for his warnings. Not the first time a man died over a woman's right to use her hole. This portal would be the key to her paradise, and no rinky-dink psychic could tell her otherwise. Now was the time for alien Mai Tais and Neptunian whorehouses. Now was the time to start her empire.

Then Ray Rayvers heard about her idea, stole it, and took Mars for his own. C'est la vie.

x x x

At present, Slaine invited Lemrina to the docking bay. He remembered how cold she was during their last meeting, and was hoping to change that by showing her some of his interests. For any other pseudo date, that would be trite, like inviting a girl to your garage. Some women could be romanced by looking at their lover's tank or jet, but Lemrina wasn't one of them. What really lured her into this was the location's zero gravity, meaning she could move as much as he wanted without disability getting in the way. And there's nothing more romantic than letting a young lady's hips move on their own once in a while.

"This is where the Kataphrakt live," Slaine said, smiling at all of these mecha like a child marveling at their toy collection.

"Robots don't live," Lemrina said, grumbling all the words.

"Princess, I wasn't being literal."

"But what could I expect from someone just as alive?"

Slaine's smile faded and his muscles started to clench. "You don't have to be so rude about it."

"Oh, don't get off on teaching me about etiquette. We're both cruel to each other, but at least I'm not the one pulling out the mental torture and presenting it as a date."

"What do you mean? I'm not trying to present this as anything!"

"Really? Don't pretend to be dense, Slaine. I know and you know that I'm nothing but a rebound. Soon I'm going to have to dress up as Asseylum to get your rocks on."

"I wouldn't force you to do that, Princess. Look, all I'm trying to do is helping you, and while you're not the first person I've helped who's treated me like garbage, I'm not disillusioned enough to expect some politeness in return."

"Oh, you think you're helping me. If you really wanted to help me, you would have rigged up an escape pod and sent me to a random country where I could live a normal life not being pulled like a puppet by you and that Count. Maybe that country would've been annihilated or conquered by your forces anyway, but any spare minutes not seeing your smug eyes are like diamonds dropping into my hands. And speaking of annihilation…"

Lemrina flew up, avoiding Slaine's attempts to grasp on to her leg. She floated to one of the Kataphrakts and sat herself down in the cockpit. Despite her state rendering her useless for combat, this design was familiar to her, like wearing a fresh, warm scarf. With her Aldnoah powers, flowing through her blood thanks to the lineage she damns, the mecha glowed and started to move.

"Princess, what are you doing?!"

"I may not be used to these controls." She unsheathed a gun from the Kataphrakt's holster and aimed it at Slaine. "But being a cripple doesn't mean I can't bite."

Slaine wanted to run back and call security, but Lemrina yelled, "Don't turn your head in my presence, Sir Slaine. If you run or even look back, I just might shoot."

Slaine raised his hands in the air, wondering why troops didn't come in and stop this nonsense from happening. "Princess, you don't want to do this. I can tell from your face."

Lemrina's face didn't move a muscle. "Like you know what I want to do. Think about being in my shoes, being the meek figurehead who has to say whatever the military wants. I'm in this because of a senile grandpa too sick to realize the mess he's in, and a war that only happened because my sister was too dumb to know her place. And now, I have the opportunity to fight back and give the Vers Empire a piece of my mind, but there's one thing stopping me. Just one. And it's watching you squirm."

"Princess, you don't need to scare me like this to get your point across! Just get down and we can talk about this."

"Oh, 'princess' this and 'princess' that. Enough with those hollow formalities, and just call me by my real name, Slaine."

"…Lemrina."

The Kataphrakt's finger moved to the trigger.

"Lemrina Vers Envers! Lemrina Vers Envers, Heir to the Vers Empire! Now, please!"

The Kataphrakt lowered its gun and stopped glowing. Lemrina leaped out of the cockpit and back to Slaine, looking down at him with those river-blue eyes throughout. In her eyes, she was like a saint falling from the skies and into the arms of an undeserving zealot. Nothing riles up that messiah complex more than the ability to decide who lives and who dies. She could almost take a whiff out of that sweet sweat falling down Slaine's forehead. Maybe she could make him dance the next time this happens, Lemrina thought.

"Next time," she said, smiling. "Say it like you mean it."

Slaine heard coughing behind him and looked behind, finding Count Saazbaum standing by the rails. Saazbaum grinned; giving Slaine the impression he allowed this to happen, to test Slaine's patience more so. Times like these made serving Cruhteo seem nostalgic. Maybe he was wrong to not disillusion himself to these games. But if he wanted his desire to bring Asseylum back to the waking world come to fruition, all Slaine could do was grin and bear it while someone pulls a gun on him, like a chicken ready for the beheading.

x x x

"Hey Trident Base," Captain Magbaredge said at the bridge of her ship. "The Deucalion needs to get a hot docking. Let us in."

"Captain," Nina said, actually giving a proper signal to the base while Magbaredge kept blowing hot air. "I thought we were called the Wadatsumi."

"No, it's the Deucalion. I changed it this morning."

"Why, Captain? This is like the fifth time you changed the ship's name."

"Because one time, I was reading this book on Greek mythology, and it turned out that Prometheus had a son named Deucalion. And that made me giggle, because his name sounded like 'dookie' and 'lion' together. It reminded me of Simb—"

"Captain, I get the gist. Just shut up while I talk to Trident Base."

"But you don't want to hear about the Li—"

"No, Captain."

Nina leaned back and typed out the password for United Earth Forces to accept their ship formerly known by a plethora of names. This was hard for Nina, for she simultaneously playing Tetris on her computer. The ability to create giant multicolored buildings and destroy them thanks to a single line amused Nina, projecting Magbaredge onto what she destroyed. She remembered reading about how Tetris was a political allegory for the monotony of hard labor, and she envied that. Conscripted to build architecture that will just get destroyed soon after it's finished would be preferable to hearing Magbaredge ramble about what book she's read or what the Aldnoah drives are supposed to do.

"Hey, Nina"

Nina refused to look back, but still talked for courtesy's sake. "Yes, Captain?"

"Let's say all of the food we had on Earth was dough."

"What?"

"You know, like no meat or vegetables, just dough."

"Why dough?"

"Because dough is what you use to make cookies. Now because all we have is dough, we'd need to find a place to store all that dough, right?"

"Captain, we're supposed to meet with the other forces. There's no time for—"

"Then you would have to lock that dough location to prevent any Martians or crazy people from hoarding it."

"Captain, please—"

"So you would need a key, but what happens if you lose that key? And everyone finds out? Then there would be tons of people screaming for that key to get their dough on."

"Captain—"

"So thanks to misplacing the only key for that dough, you would get millions of people wanting to tear your face off, screaming and rioting everywhere. You could say it was a Dough-Key Dough-Key Panic."

"…fuck you, Captain."

x x x

Elsewhere in the Wadatsumi/Deucalion/Saltyspittoon, Inaho sat in his little silver-plated room and focused on his laptop. His cybernetic eye had a cord connected to the USB drive, somehow allowing him to better perceive the information on the computer. Maybe he could hack websites with his mind now, or have the ability to mentally type bad reviews for supermarkets. Or maybe connecting his eye to the computer gives him a special tingly feeling that he can't get from other vendors. One cannot be too sure why Inaho does what he does. And frankly, one should not have a reason to find out why.

Also, he was dressed like a cop, with suspenders and a tie and all that.

The door slid open, and Inko arrived to see how Inaho was doing. Because zero gravity is a perverted form of nature, her skirt started to flap as she walked in. It was as if the winds made her skirt fly up, even though skirts shouldn't be that light enough to cause that kind of mishap. She kept the fabric down with both hands, Inaho not even giving so much as a peek. A man on his laptop would view a panty shot like a modern man would view Mormon porn. Inko wanted to wear a nice pair of trousers to avoid situations like these, but the UEF Anti-Pants laws put a stop to that malarkey.

"Hey," Inko said, trying to come up with something interesting to say. "I see that you're taking digital piracy literally."

"What do you mean?"

"Um, the eyepatch." Inko pointed at the cord.

"It is not an eyepatch, but a neural link with the computer."

"Okay, so have you taken your pills lately?"

"But I do not take antidepressants."

"No, not those pills. I mean multivitamins, because you eat nothing but eggs. I wonder how you can survive on that diet alone."

"The Captain believes she can survive on cookie dough alone. A paste of grain and yeast is less nutritious than egg consumption, so why should she fulfill that desire when I cannot?"

"Well, Magbaredge is sort of loo—wait, how do you know that?"

"I hacked into the communications throughout the ship with my neural link and heard her making a joke to Nina Klein. I can see and hear everything that goes on in this ship."

"That's kind of creepy."

"That is science."

"Wait, so that means you can see us change and shower and whatever?"

"Yes."

Inko started to grimace. "Okay, now that's really creepy."

"But I seldom choose to see that location."

"Whatever. Maybe you should get off the computer."

"I cannot."

"Why? Also, you could at least look at me when we're talking."

Inaho slightly turned his head to look at Inko, or Inko's right shoulder to be more precise. "Because I have found something odd about the Princess's broadcast."

"Besides that thing about the blue skies?"

"Yes. I scanned her voice's waveform, and discovered an imprecise tone to her diction."

"Maybe she was tired. Or drugged. I want to say drugged."

"No, I could not detect any inebriation from her accent. Instead, the tone from her voice indicates a faster heart beat than usual, which can be diagnosed as a sign of lying."

"So? Maybe she doesn't believe what she says and is just reading it out."

Inaho took a breath. "You have gained weight."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You have gained weight. You are forty-nine point two kilograms. That is overweight according to the personal body mass index I have created."

"Okay. First, shut up about that. Second, you didn't answer the first question."

"Your heart rate has heightened."

"Well, yeah."

"The same as the Princess in this recording. I remember during my time with the Princess that her heart rate could not be so easily incensed. Here in this recording, the orator does not present the same facial tics, body movements, or the right tone that Princess Asseylum exuded. I can only conclude this is a doppelganger impersonating the princess in order to rile nationalism."

"Well, that's nice. But you didn't have to call me fat to prove your point."

"But you are. I believe this may be due to binge eating."

"I don't binge eat!"

"I saw you spend twenty more minutes at the refrigerator than everyone else on the ship."

"Um, why did you even look at me doing that?"

"Because I care about your health as much as you do mine. If you can probe me regarding my vitamin intake, why can I not suggest that you eat less?"

Inko's cheeks turned red. "Well, I don't wiretap people to find out what's going on with them. I ask them what's wrong. Like a normal person!"

"Inko, do you know that your name is an anagram of the pig noise 'oink'?"

The grimace fully manifested on her face, whereas Inaho's face hardly showed any expression beyond 'mouth open' and 'mouth closed'. "Oh, we are not going there."

"Why, because it is the truth?"

"Just because it's the truth in your head doesn't mean anything."

"You do not appear to be denying your nature regarding the word 'Oink'."

"Because I don't need to! I'm not fat!"

"The cow goes moo. The horse goes neigh. The Inko goes oink."

Inaho pushed his nose up with his index finger in order to resemble a pig. Thanks to his not-quite eyepatch, this pantomiming made him look like a pirate piggy.

Inko grunted and stormed out of the room. In the hall, Rayet noticed and decided to see the commotion.

"Hey Ink?" she asked. "What's the fuss all about?"

"Nothing!" Inko yelled, tears almost showing in her eyes. "I just need to stay away from Inaho for a while, in the hopes he'll stop acting like a dick."

Rayet slid open Inaho's door to understand what he did to Inko.

"Cool, you did the thing to Ink I asked you to. Top notch, Asimo."

Rayet pulled some money out of her shirt and threw it on Inaho's bed.

"There, get yourself some eggs or maybe a new pan."

"I do not need a new pan."

"Yeah. And next time, maybe you can tell Inko that her skirt's too small, or that she's too flat. Just something that will get her angry like a few seconds ago."

"Affirmative."

x x x

"Every time Sir Slaine comes here," Eddelrittuo said to herself while cleaning Asseylum's tank. "He always makes a gooey yellow stain over Princess Asseylum's stasis tube. They're always so tough to clean up, Princess! And I wish your sister could ever be so nicer to me, but she keeps referring me to as 'Dorito'. Any time, no, every time I correct her, she just sneers and asks if I wanted to be referred to as 'Cool Ranch' from now on. Then she futilely attempts to kick me while still in her wheelchair, which would be so cute if it weren't for the attitude behind such an action. It's all very demeaning and makes me miss hiding with you, Princess. I miss how you smiled, and how you smelled, and how you tasted. The new Princess tastes like old graham crackers, and that's not very nice.

x x x

Emperor Ray Rayvers sat in his bed, wires and tubes connected to every major part of his body. Turning his head, Ray's line of sight would be nothing but respirators, heart monitors, brainwave detectors, iron lungs, a tank of IV fluid, and a little duck plushie to keep him company. He could barely remember the days when he didn't need twenty types of medication in order to get by, and one of those was specifically to help him remember said days. It almost made him envy Mae West's fate, cryogenically frozen with a clown wig glued to her barren scalp.

The phone called, and Ray took a skeletal hand and plopped it on the speaker button.

"H-hello?"

"Hey Ray-Ray!" Saazbaum said. "The plan with your granddaughter's been going smoothly."

"A-as smooth as when her momma plopped her out?"

"…Sir, the Princess' mother and former empress died during childbirth. Years ago."

"Wait, really?! I thought she was by my bedside trying to… seduce me, making sweet quacking sounds and all."

"I think that's the duck doll I gave you."

"But she has such a fine beak. You don't get a fine rostrum structure like that in your mallard machinations. You can only get that in our women, our nice Martian women."

"The former empress didn't have a beak."

"Not on her mouth."

"Ray, I already know about the 'duck-gina'."

"But I forgot to tell you about the quackoris and the utergoose. And especially the gullva."

"And the cloaca. I know, Ray."

"What's a cloaca?"

"But back to the last point, why are you confusing your late daughter-in-law with a duck again?"

"Wait, 'daughter-in-law'? My son's been pilfering my goods again?"

"Your son's dead."

"Grisaia's dead?!"

"Gilzeria, Ray."

"Oh. Oh! Okay. Goodie. It evens love out. Verily. Everily."

"Ray, do you want me to discuss what your—"

"You know if you take the last thing I said and made than an acronym, you get 'OOOGIELOVE'!"

"Good eye, Ray."

The call ended, but Ray Rayvers did not notice and misheard the white noise as Saazbaum talking. Being diagnosed with a terminal case of Martian Madness can do that to you.

x x x

On Saazbaum's end of the call, he grew exasperated even after his attempt to converse with the Emperor ended. He wondered how he could harm a man with such a loose grasp on reality as his. Killing Asseylum wouldn't do anything for Ray, because Saazbaum doubted if he even knew what her name or gender was. He could probably introduce a blow up doll to the Emperor, and he would believe that to be the princess. Hell, it wouldn't even need to be shaped like a person. He could just take a spare warhead out from a Kataphrakt's gun and introduce it to the Emperor as his 'beloved' granddaughter. Dealing with senility is like trying to get a baby to laugh, except the comparison feels more comfortable if you let your moral compass sink.

And to incense his nerves even more, Slaine entered his private chambers.

"Count Saazbaum," he said. "I need to talk to you about the latest plan."

"Slaine, have you ever thought about growing old?"

"Um, not really, mostly thanks to almost dying every other six months."

"Well trust me, Slaine. Of all the burdens you face, the burden of age is not something you should fear."

The odd wording of that sentence made Slaine tense up, thinking this was another way to screw with him.

"In a few more decades, I will be almost as old as the Emperor. Imagine being him as he is now, Slaine. Can you picture lying in bed unable to walk or to make the speeches you could years before? A day away from the public becomes an eternity, and those dreams of a better tomorrow fade into hoping you don't die in your sleep. That's what a life of war and travel can do to you, and I don't see myself evading that fate. I can only see myself taking his steps, making his decisions, and repeating every thing he does until I turn into a ripened husk like him. When I pass, I won't be allowed to pass away as myself, but just as a shadow of another man's dream. I know you face death all the time, but at least you can die with your identity intact."

"How profound," Slaine said, more focused on using his tongue to scrape out left over food stuck in his teeth than anything coming out of Saazbaum's mouth.

"Yes, I know. I could write my own sonnet if I actually cared about the written word. Now what were you saying about the plan?"

"So why are we trying to conquer Earth again? I thought now that the Emperor thinks that his granddaughter isn't dead, we wouldn't have to campaign to kill everybody, but here we are, doing the same thing we did a year and a half ago."

"It's to bring prosperity to the lower classes here in Mars. An earthling gets nuked so a Martian can eat for a few more days."

"But how do we stop the resources from staying in the pockets of the Counts? Like, we don't have any human resources or rights groups that can help organize the spoils looted from Earth. All we have are just more Counts, and not even Counts that can survive a battle with a bunch of high school kids. Like the really stupid Counts who probably blow up the Earth's resources before having the chance to take it themselves."

Saazbaum put his hand on Slaine's shoulder, making the younger man shiver as if someone threw a squid at him.

"Slaine, that's a very good query. Almost as good as the query I made to the other counts, where I wonder why we didn't just become a business and starting mass-producing Aldnoah technology in order to get rich without resorting to warfare. But then, they all laughed at me and I just let that plan gather dust for years."

"And why aren't you enacting that plan now that you're leading all of this?"

"Because legitimate moneymaking is boring when you can just nuke to get what you want. Making CEOs crumble their napkins doesn't have the special taste you get from seeing an entire city's population burn to death. Why pour soup for the needy when you can splash it on their face and watch it scald? Slaine, you've shed blood, and I know that excited you much more than any stock interest loan or whatever corporate lingo they're throwing at each other today."

Slaine recalled how he killed Trilliam after discovering his deeds, but it didn't make him feel good. What's Saazbaum getting at by trying to tell him that murder makes people hard? He doesn't even know how to get hard, considering his anatomy.

"Count, what do you know about the Lemrina incident a few hours ago?"

"Oh, that thing. I wanted to help you, but you don't deal with a girl on her period."

"But the Princess has early-onset menopause."

"Metaphorical period. A post-menstrual simile. A vaginalogy. Like the one Crouton had when he was whipping your pale ass. Remember when he made the slashy-slashies on your backy-backies?"

"Count, you're taking my near-death lightly."

"And like you've said about dying every other six months. A near murder's like having your shots once you get used to it. I should know after you almost killed me. After that, I never got the measles again!"

Saazbaum giggled at the recollection, while Slaine felt unnerved at how he could recall that moment with warmth.

"You may act like we are enemies, but I like you, Slaine. I really like you. If I didn't, you would be indistinguishable from the stardust on our ship. Now, no hard feelings, okay?"

Slaine didn't really know what to say, because trying to yell at Saazbaum will just have him acting fruity again, so he merely turned around and walked away.

"Ta-ta, Boslaingles."

x x x

"Stygis Squadron commissioned for battle!"

"All forces ready to go in five minutes."

"Um, my Tharsis isn't powering up. We need to wait a few."

Eye rolling and sneering echoed through the entire hangar bay as Slaine looked for his personal Aldnoah stash. One pilot even threw shoes at him; leaving the implication this one man will go barefoot into space. He could remember all those years ago when Asseylum kissed him, and that briefly gave him access to Aldnoah energy, but that had since run out. All of that childhood saliva was gone from Slaine's mouth, replaced by young adult bad breath and the small cavity that he refuses to see the Martian dentist for. He needed his fix or else the soldiers would laugh at him even more than usual. Slaine could always go back to stasis tank, take Asseylum out, and kiss her. But for now, making out with unconscious people was something even below Slaine's standards.

He left his cockpit and found Lemrina at the corner of the hangar bay, looking at him with unblinking, wide eyes. She was part of the Rayvers bloodline like Asseylum was, so maybe kissing her can give him some of the delicious Aldnoah goo running in his veins. Belittling the idea of personal space, Slaine ran in and cornered Lemrina while in her few times to be free of wheelchair use.

"Princess Lemrina! Would you mind giving me a kiss to power up the Tharsis?"

"Why do you need a kiss when everyone else here has robots to power up? Do you want me to kiss all of them too? Is that what you want? For me to be your Aldnoah whore?"

Slaine was not in the mood for another fight with the Princess, but her questions did need answers he was struggling to give. "Yeah, when you think about it, what's the deal with that?"

"The Aldnoah drive is a force that demands theatrics," Saazbaum said off in the distance. "I should know, for I can still taste Gilzeria's bodily fluids in the corner of my mouth."

"Bodily fluids?" Lemrina said, the left of her mouth making a hint of a smirk. "So I could piss on you, and the Aldnoah powers would activate?"

"I'd rather not take that step," Slaine said.

"But you've been wanting my dear sister to squirt in front of you, can't I be her understudy? Would you let my lemon-colored rain replace Asseylum's?"

"I keep telling you that you're not Asseylum's replacement!"

Saazbaum heckled at the two. "Booyah, daily drama dose!"

The urge to scream 'Quiet, you!' boiled in Slaine's body like a spontaneous combustion about to happen. Letting his suit smell of Lemrina's bladder was far from one of his carnal desires, especially since the Earth forces will use every second of inaction to their advantage. At first, he wondered why Saazbaum didn't do anything to hasten the preparations. Then Slaine remembered all of the previous sieges, seeing that Saazbaum will just launch another siege next week as if he was trying to denounce the evils of truth and love while extending his reach to the stars above.

"What do I need to convince you I'm not just using you like some kind of puppet?" Slaine asked.

"By proving to me that you've moved on from the scars of your past, and that you can act like an actual man when looking at me."

Slaine proceed to unbutton his coat, and show the literal scars of his past to Lemrina, specifically the whip scars he endured from Cruhteo's kinky cavalcade.

"So… why are you showing me your back?"

"They're the scars of my past."

"I don't see scars."

"They're right there, Lemrina!"

"No, I just see little red lines. Those aren't scars, you pussy."

"But they really hurt."

Lemrina giggled, which soon turned into a full-blown cackle she couldn't bother to hide. "There's probably an underling of yours who lost a leg or an arm once in combat, and you're complaining about tiny scars on your back? That's so pathetic!"

"But they're still signs that I faced the struggle."

"Yeah, because getting whipped for a few hours is so much worse than being crippled.

"And I'm pretty sure that Earth boy you shot two years ago lost an eye," Saazbaum said. "He's probably still alive, without an eye, wanting to have his revenge for you taking away his double-eye privileges."

"So just because everyone has problems doesn't mean I shouldn't complain about my own?" Slaine asked.

"Well, not if you're going act like a bitch about it. A bitch who still gets to walk and has two eyes."

Slaine was about to make a rebuttal when he looked back and saw everybody from the Stygis squadron to the bridge crew to even Eddelrittuo looking at him with pity. It was just like the last time everyone made a mockery out of him, a few hours ago. This felt like an endless cycle of picking on Slaine and treating him like he wasn't a knight. Knowing this day couldn't get any worse for him, he decided to do the one thing that could redeem this moment.

Slaine grabbed Lemrina's head with both hands, and gave a long, hard kiss. She was trying to suck in her lips so they wouldn't make contact with his, but they gave in after feeling Slaine's saliva drip on her chin. He considered sticking his tongue in, but didn't want any royal teeth cutting it. Tongue cuts hurt like the Dickens, specifically the Ellen Ternan-era Dickens. As soon as he felt that warm Aldnoah powers in his veins, he let go and pushed a stunned Lemrina back into her corner.

"Now that's the spirit!" Saazbaum said, as if he were talking to the son he would have had had his fiancé not died all those years ago.

"And stop making stupid jokes that are only funny to yourself!" Slaine yelled at his superior.

"You go, girl."

Slaine could feel the tune to an 80s rock song play as he went back to the Tharsis, proud of himself for getting what he wanted while riling up Lemrina.

"Yo, Mr. Slaine!" Harklight said while buckling up his seatbelts, aiming to fight by the side of his beloved knight. "That was effing awesome. Never saw two people kiss before!"

"You never saw people kiss before?"

"Yeah, I thought it involved dancing and spitting food into each others' mouths."

x x x

"So kids," Magbaredge said on the speaker. "I don't know how to say this without coming off as redundant, but we're under attack. Again. By the Vergins."

Inko, Rayet, Inaho, and the unnamed crew who are probably going to die were deployed into space, ready to defend Trident Base from whatever gimmicky threat was facing them this time.

"The general told me to tell you guys to exercise caution while attacking, but fuck that! Shoot those bitches and use their blood as the ketchup for your fry of victory."

"Captain," Inko said. "What are you even going for?"

"What? It worked for Mizusaki, she gave me the blushy eyes when I made that joke. Too bad she still thinks she's straight instead of going for the real action right here."

"Captain, stop talking about your vagina and tell us the specs on the enemies."

"They're starfish-shaped."

"And?"

"There are like five of them. I guess do whatever you normally do when killing a starfish, like stepping on them. Also, there's this huge silver robot with tons of ener—"

Inko had enough rambling and turned off the comm. relay. Still somewhat bitter over Inaho's words, mixed with this and whatever comes out of Rayet's mouth, she wondered why she wasn't fighting for the Martians instead. Maybe they would offer some more intelligent conversation.

At the Martian side of the skirmish about to begin, the folks at the Stygis Platoon were having a quibble with each other before they could strike at the UFE troops.

"Hey commander?" asked a Stygian Private. "What's the difference between a platoon and a squadron?"

"A platoon's like a division of a squadron," the commander asked. "You go from fireteam, to squad, to section, to platoon, to company, to squadron, or battalion if you prefer."

"Okay. But, uh, speaking of division, shouldn't we stick close to each other so they don't kill us?"

"What do you mean, private?"

"The last guys who faced these guys fought them one by one, and they all died. We probably could have won if we sent like all of the customized Kataphrakts at once."

"Yeah, tell that to the Count if you live."

"So… maybe we should learn from that experience and stay close as a team?"

"That's a good idea, soldier. Team, it's time to perform the formation! Big Kataphrakt hug, troops!"

The five starfishes joined up to form an even bigger starfish, but with one mecha in the center, so it was more like a four-shaped star, a shuriken. Except they were nowhere near as inconspicuous as ninjas, so that analogy just falls on its face. Its unmasked, non-ninja face.

The group broke through the UEF blockade and wildly attacked all forces.

"So if I'm Mustang 22," Rayet said. "Why do we assign each numbers divisible by 11?"

"Stop talking and start shooting!" Inko yelled as her shots were just barely missing the Stygis formation.

"It doesn't seem to be working on your end."

"But I'm waiting for the inevitable?"

"For us to die?"

"No, no to your cynicism. I mean that."

Shots from the Orange Kataphrakt made precise rounds, shooting at each part of the formation until only the center remained.

"We are the friendship team!" the Stygis commander said on the relay. "No lone Earthling bastard can stop us when we're best friends hugging each other 'til the end! Right, guys?"

He heard the warning signals all across his cockpit.

"Guys?"

His Kataphrakt exploded thanks to Inaho's sniping, not even being able to fully express his power of friendship speech.

While happy that she didn't die again, Inko found herself exasperated by one issue to Inaho's skills. "Wait, how did he shoot them all when I couldn't?"

"Because I have encoded my unit to compensate for gravity gradient resulting from dense satellite clusters," Inaho said. "Allowing for your lives to be saved."

"You couldn't share the codes with us?"

"No, because I like to be special."

"Specially-trained or special needs?" Rayet asked.

Inaho didn't respond to that. He was more focused on looking for retreating enemies while his right eye continued to dilate to remind everyone (even us) that he was half-machine, even if that act's really only good for winning staring contests. It's not like he needed to enhance his technique at that though. Having Inaho blink is like having the pitcher come after the catcher did, except with more cream involved.

But sexual exploits have nothing to do with our next participant in the battle, Slaine. His white armored ride struck in contrast with Inaho's orange, like they were ice cream flavors at a shady convenient store. Inaho tried to use his special coding to seek and shoot the Tharsis, but Slaine avoided each shot like how any sane man or woman with a platonic interest in poultry would avoid him. His moves were acrobatic. With Inaho, this asteroid field resembled an excess of phalluses on a specially lit floor. Inaho attempted to slow down the details behind his movements in order to find a weak point, but all it did is make him witness to bullet time. And even for someone as stoic as Inaho, this made him cringe. A blood vessel almost broke when his mouth tried to move beyond its basic two positions, which almost distracted him from being shot back by Slaine.

To ascertain his enemy's abilities before quashing him, Inaho needed to learn the basics. He turned to the computer on his side while firing back to defend himself, trying to learn about the Tharsis and its history. He knew that it used to be Count Cruhteo's personal suit, but was taken after his death and given to Count Saazbaum's knight. Inaho remembered the young man who fought by Saazbaum's side and prevented him from delivering the final blow.

Coincidentally at that exact moment, Slaine remembered Saazbaum's jeering about the orange Kataphrakt pilot, and how he wounded him all those years ago. He wondered if the mecha he was fighting now was the same person, though exactly how he could have survived a headshot to the eye made Slaine feel dubious in thinking that. But then he remembered the universe he was living in, and decided his first thought had to be the case.

He turned on the relay to the orange Kataphrakt to say his word. "So it's you, Inaho Kaizuka."

Unfortunately, he pushed the wrong button and went head first into a small asteroid. Even more unfortunate was that his Kataphrakt suffered only minor damage.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Queen to F3," Inaho said, back at Trident Base now that the battle had come to a standstill thanks to Slaine pushing the wrong button. Instead of taking advantage of this mishap to push forward on the Vers Empire, Inaho and Magbaredge got sleepy after ten minutes of battle and called a ceasefire.

"Captain," Officer Mizusaki said, twiddling her fingers. "Why are you playing chess when the enemy is right next to us? Maybe we should send troops?"

"King to G7," Magbaredge said. "Because that would be rude, Water HH Munro."

"We can't even send a recon agent to take them down?"

"What are recon agents?"

"Rook to E4," Inaho said.

Mizusaki's eyelids drooped; like she was at a funeral to someone she didn't even know. "Captain, would it be so hard to send one agent in? We don't always have to settle everything with a robot fight. This isn't Power Rangers, you know."

"I know, Power Rangers was cooler. Rook to D8."

"Captain!"

"Lieutenant, please. Call me Darzana. Or Darzie. Not Maggie though. Nina called me Maggie once, and I smacked her for it."

Inaho didn't even pay attention to the banter going on in front of him and said, "Queen to F6."

"King to F6. Lieutenant, it's not like we have a Martian who could act as an agent that could sneak into the Vers forces and destroy everything from the inside. That's not how things work."

"What about Rayet?" Inaho asked. "Bishop to E5."

"Who's Rayet? King to G5."

"You don't even know who Rayet is?" Mizusaki asked. "She's been on our ship for two years, Captain. She strangled the Princess once."

"You expect me to know everyone here?"

"You're the captain!"

"I'm not good with names, Mee-zoo-sah-kay. Tell me what she wore, and I might remember. I can always tell a girl apart by what kind of pants they wear."

"She was the short-shorts girl."

"Which short-shorts girl?"

Mizusaki's ears started to glow red. "The red-haired one."

"Bishop to G7," Inaho said.

"You sunk my battleship," Magbaredge said. "That was fun. Chess always makes me feel smart, like someone is penetrating my head with his genius penis and delivering the special hot brain goo that makes my IQ look like a tuition bill."

Silence filled the air for a few seconds. Mizusaki shook her head, trying to get the thought and mental smell of Magbaredge's scenario out of her mind. Maybe this was her own fault, Mizusaki thought. Perhaps she shouldn't have joined the military and became a burger flipper like her brother. It wouldn't even have to be a good or even decent burger restaurant, and the manager could be an invalid for all she cared. Just the thought of grinding Magbaredge's body into pink slurry and frying it into an unrecognizable brown slab made her feel elated. Then Mizusaki remembered she wasn't working on minimum wage, but for even less, and her mind was brought down to Trident Base and open to unfeeling eyes and lunacy incarnate.

"What was even the point of that?" Mizusaki asked. "Like, what if when you were playing, Vers Imperial Forces delivered a surprise attack? And you and the one pilot saving us from everything would be here while everyone else would die."

"You're such a downer, missy. That's why you can't get dates from the ladies."

"We're at war with another planet, Captain. Who has time to focus on getting laid when people keep getting killed in front of us? Besides, I'm straight."

"That's what they all say before they see my bare edge. I can make anybody gay, ask Nina. Or the little slave girl the Princess tagged along with."

"And you didn't even answer my first question, Captain? Why chess?"

"Because chess makes you smart. You don't even have to know what bishops and knights do, or even read the tutorial explaining who does what. Real knights didn't have to watch tutorials to know what they needed to do. All you need is to have all the pieces on the board while playing with someone, preferably someone who can handle a rook the same way they handle a nipple, and the pheromones from those pawns seep into your brain and make you think intellectually. Ask Alexander Pichushkin. Or his successful brother, Alexander Raichushkin."

Magbaredge took a pawn and squeezed it into her left nostril. "You don't see many people do this, and that's because many people are stupid."

Mizusaki frowned. She could have expressed a stronger facial reaction, but to do that would be too much effort for someone literally shoving toys up their nose. Instead, she turned to the slightly saner half of the chess players. "Okay, Ensign Inaho, why are you here?"

"Because I have concerns about my value to the fleet. I am the living power source of the Aldnoah drive. If I die in combat, that power sources goes away, and so will the energy powering this ship."

"But you're the only reason we're alive in the first place, so keeping you locked and protected would be like burning a trump card, like how locking and protecting the Captain would be like burning a five of diamonds."

"I heard that," Magbaredge said.

"Yeah, and by now, I don't care."

"But in the state I am in combined with the specifications on my Kataphrakt, the probability of death is always high."

"So we could just send you out in a Kataphrakt that's more durable than the standard model. Like extra shielding and stuff. No big deal."

"But I like my orange Kataphrakt. It makes me feel special."

"Then we'll give you a super robot look all of the Counts are piloting and paint it orange."

"But those robots have clear design flaws that I could exploit in seconds. What if someone does that to me?"

"Do you really think the Counts are smart enough to do that?"

"I think the Tharsis pilot could do that, because he is able to do the things I can, except with more of those emotions guiding his actions."

"Okay, but if we keep you safe inside the ship, then you won't be able to pilot your toy, understand?"

"But what about my life?"

"But what about our lives? I want to live and get away from all of this, and I know you do too, but that requires you to stop acting scared about your life."

Inaho did not respond, and instead dilated his right eye. Whether that was a sign of agreeing with Mizusaki or not was a mystery to her. For a moment, she thought she heard him say 'beep'.

"That was mean, lieutenant," Magbaredge said with a pawn still stuck in her nose. "By the way, get the butter. I shoved the pawn up the one nostril that can breathe well, and I can't get it out. And I want the butter to melt so people can look at me and think I went down on someone who peed themselves."

x x x

Out in space, the Tharsis was planting traps around the asteroids, unbeknownst to everybody on both sides despite not even trying to hide his tactics. No one else was patrolling the belt but him, and little reason was given except a handwritten note written by his servant that went "Sir Slaine went off to collect rocks for his rock collection. He's gonna name the latest after me! -3 Harklight". A giant metal suit shooting at asteroids, wouldn't that be pretty conspicuous for people who are only a few space fight montages away? Nevertheless, Slaine continued shooting paralysis bombs into the asteroids in the hopes that someone will conveniently land in the spot, that precise spot, where they will be trapped and doomed to gunfire. And given that everyone on both sides was on his shit list, Slaine didn't care who would be the first to get ensnared. 'Didn't' with cheeky finger quotes on them.

After the plotting was done, Slaine went back to the Marineros hangar bay, his Tharsis running in like it was a pensioner who had just suffered a case of mudbutt.

"Good morning!" Harklight said, standing in front of the Tharsis. He would have been a blood splatter had Slaine let his Kataphrakt continue running for a few more seconds. Not that Harklight minded if that scenario happened. "How've you been doing, Sir Slaine?"

"Please," Slaine said as he left the Tharsis and stood eye-to-eye, well, forehead-to-eye considering his height, with Harklight. "Don't call me 'sir', because every time you say 'Sir Slaine', I keep hearing it as 'Cersei', and that's just gets on my nerves to be compared to that."

"Who's Cersei?"

"She's someone from a show, a manipulative lady who backstabs and condescends to everyone else."

"So in other words, how the Counts describe you?"

"Wait, which Counts said that?"

"Us Counts said that!" said in unison by two Counts on the walkway. One had his hair in blonde curls that failed to hide the devious smirk on his face. The other looked like Saazbaum if he washed his hair with swamp water. They both stood on the walkway like it was a runway, halfheartedly strutting as if audiences ranging in the hundreds watched them instead of a manchild and his manslave. Otherwise, very little distinguished them from every other Count that Slaine had encountered throughout his life. It's one thing when all the Counts look the same, but when they act the same, it raises implications as to what exactly Martian culture is like when carbon copy aristocrats are in vogue. But then, we haven't had much clue as to what Martian civilians are like beyond the snobs and the Slaines.

Slaine floated upwards onto the walkway to meet them, and wonder who's the latest person to spit on his excuse of a good name.

"Ah, Count Mary and Count Barry. It's good to see you two in person."

"Oh don't start," the blonde one, Mary, said. "Slaine Tryhard."

"Thank you, I haven't heard that before."

"Why use a funny joke only once?" the swampy-haired one, Barry, asked. "Earthling boys don't get the full joke when hearing it only once, you know."

"Mmm," Mary said. "You got that right."

"Mmm-hmmmm."

"Mmm-hmmmm!"

"Mmm-hmmmm?" Slaine asked.

That query to his Socratic dialogue with his brother and secret lover angered Mary so much that he unsheathed his sword, pointing his blade at Slaine. "Mmm-hmmmm!"

"Mmm-mmmmm," Saazbaum said, appearing out of nowhere, grabbing Mary's arm, and ready to reprimand Count Mary for waving his sword out in the open. "Nobody touches my bitch but me."

"Count Saazbaum! I didn't see you there."

"Neither did your progenitor. Mary, you know I'm quite the master at coming without anyone noticing."

"Is that what the missus said before her accident?"

Saazbaum considered a slap to Mary's cheeks before deciding to let that remark slide. "So what have you done that's riled up Slainey so much?"

"He doesn't know respect when he sees it."

"Quite so," Barry said, sniffing and nibbling at a bit of Mary's hair like he was a panda eating bamboo.

"See, the Mister agrees. If your boy were a variety show, the title would be 'Hey Hey, It's that Turd Slaine'."

"Slaine has been my main for over two years," Saazbaum said while poking the floor with his cane. "And I won't stand for someone abusing him without my consent."

"Just because he's your vassal doesn't mean—Barry, you're pulling on it!"

"Mmph," Barry said as he tried to bite less on his lover's scalp.

"The Count likes to use ruffled chips as hair curlers," Saazbaum said to Slaine. "The sour cream and vinegar kind because Barry Cruz likes that the most."

"But we don't have chips on Mars," Harklight said.

"Yeah, we call them fries, because we aren't Britannia, we're actually about something."

"Now good sir," Count Mary said, brushing off sprinkles and chip dust from his hair. "Just because he's your vassal doesn't mean anything. He's only a finger-licking underling."

"To be fair, Mary, he's worth more than a vassal. Worth more than you, actually."

"And what do you mean by—"

"He's my son."

Everyone gasped, including you. Slaine tilted his head like a lump of food was lodged in his throat, the kind that no form of CPR could take care of.

"From this day forward," Saazbaum declared while looking at Slaine with those steely eyes. "I am the baby daddy! And Slaine shall be my baby!"

Slaine looked as if he were about to vomit. At least a tiny drop of liquid spilled from his mouth thanks to Saazbaum's decree. "Sir, this is supposed to be a joke ri—"

"Not now, son! Daddy's talking. Talking to save your skin, mind you. The skin you inherited from my wonderful Saaz-genes."

Barry plucked a hair follicle out of Mary's head and nibbled on it. Mary didn't notice because this revelation drove him momentarily speechless. Harklight looked around to see if anyone else heard what Saazbaum said, and then bit his lips to ease the tension in his head.

"Count Saazbaum, you just can't claim me as your son! Adoption doesn't work that way."

"Adoption? No, you came from my seed, boy. I'm actually you dad Mister Troyard. That talk about saving your dad saving my life? That was me saving my own life! From myself!"

Mary and Barry decided to leave. They were going to give a unsubtle speech about children betraying their fathers, but that kind of foreshadowing has no place when other absurdities are afoot.

"Phew, that was close. But seriously, you're my son, Slaine. Slaine Saazbaum-Troyard. SST. Science Sacrifices Tiptup."

"You adopted me just to get two guys off of my case?"

"Sure did. Had to do something to stop Barry and Mary Cruhteo."

"Wait, Cruhteo?"

"Oh yeah, the Cruhteos complained about the whole 'me killing their son' deal, so I made a cloning farm to make amends. The project failed, and I only got two clones that they kicked out after a day, but they seem to be living happy lives now. Living wonderful clonecestuous lives."

"Sir, that sounds really stu—"

"—pendous? Yes, it does. I'll be off now."

Saazbaum did a silly walk and marched away from the hangar bay, leaving Harklight and Slaine to pick up the pieces of what just happened.

"Well then," Harklight said as he brushed off the metaphoric debris away from his coat. Even if you can feel it, it's best to wipe away the stains of psychic dilly-dallying. "That's one way of getting a promotion, eh, Sir Slaine?"

Slaine didn't answer; instead focusing on the quandaries regarding the idea that Saazbaum could be a father figure to him. He wanted to think through this calmly, examining the details without resorting to an emotion-driven conclusion, but his mind quickly went into the gutter and thought about Saazbaum and his father conceiving a little Slaine baby. What a shame that the first mental image of his birth father conjured in years had to come from sexy thoughts. Not many people imagine their dads having sex, but Slaine is not like many people. He's not the everyman, because the everyman is at least average, and Slaine's quite below that line.

From Harklight's perspective, Slaine oozed catatonia. The drool from a minute ago kept dribbling down his mouth and moistened his chest like a money shot that missed the mark. The young lord even looked cross-eyed, more so than usual. Knowing his superior may not wake up unless corporal force was utilized, Harklight took the initiative to backslap Slaine on the cheek to wake him out of his pseudo-Oedipal stupor.

"Sir Slaine, please. You look like a trucker had his freak on with you. And I didn't even know what a trucker was until an hour ago thanks to asking Count Saazbaum. It was a terrible revelation."

The slap made Slaine pant a bit; at first thinking Cruhteo came back from the grave to ghostsmack him. He had to focus on Harklight to make sure the thought of ghost Cruhteo wouldn't give him a panic attack as big as being smothered by Saazbaum's Saazbosom. "I'm all right, really. I just… I know what I'm going to do for the next attack."

"Good, Sir Slaine! Good to know that an ascension in the ranks has helped you grasp deeper for your dreams!"

"Harklight, please never say 'grasp deep' to my face ever again."

x x x

Deeper into Marineros base, further away from the hangar bay, and far too fresh for Martian feet to step on, was the almighty lounge area. Covered with moss and gold plates, the lounge was a place that managed to combine the aesthetic of heaven with the look of those Chinese restaurants with 'Lucky' or 'Garden' in the name. It was so vast and full of stairs, yet lacking in human population. One would wonder why they even built a lounge this big if they weren't going to use the majority of it. Then again, if the Earthlings can spend much of their ceasefire playing chess instead of making preparations, can't the Martians construct pointless luxuries as well?

Lurking in the lounge were Princess Lemrina and her young ward Eddelrittuo, whose nature was so enigmatic that this narrative took a minute misspelling her name before finally giving in and searching the right spelling online.

"Elder Rito," Lemrina said. "Can I ask something of you?"

Eddelrittuo tried to keep her composure and play the part of the little maid. "What do you need, Princess Lemrina?"

"I just wondered. How old are you supposed to be?"

"Fourteen, miss."

"But you still look ten."

"Yes."

"So… do you have some kind of dwarfism?"

Eddelrittuo blushed at the D-word. "Princess Lemrina, I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Like, was my sister into dwarves? Did she hire you as her slave because you're a dwarf?"

"I'm not slave, miss!"

"And I'm not crippled. And everyone in this ship isn't crazy or stupid."

Eddelrittuo rolled her hands up into fists and squeezed them hard, like she ate a few too many Doritos and didn't know how to digest them. "Princess Lemrina, I do not believe that my height is something you should be concerned with!"

"I can see your dwarf fingers. They look like they've seen a lot of battle with some of the Starks."

"I'm not a dwarf, Princess!"

"I know dwarves are supposed to have disproportionate foreheads. Are those bangs hiding that huge forehead of yours? Is that why you served my sister, so you could finally feel tall for once in your life by serving someone of apparent power, only to realize she was just a figurehead who was as tiny to her nation as you are to your bathroom mirror? Doesn't that just rile you up, Dorito? Doesn't it?"

Eddelrittuo felt the memories surging back in. She could feel the name-calling. She could re-experience the prejudice. She could even imagine the platform shoes she bought once. Trying to come up with something to make sure she won't slap the Princess, as much as she deserved it, the little girl decided to ask a less violent question.

"So how about that war, Princess? Ever wonder who's going to win?"

"I don't pay attention to sports."

"But it's in front of you, Princess. You can still some debris if you look out the window."

"Doesn't mean I need to watch the war."

"Why not?"

"Because you people put too much pressure on me about the war. 'Sweetie, do a propaganda broadcast for me and I'll give you candy.' 'Could you wear a yellow wig and tell your grandfather that the war's doing fine?' It's ridiculous. As ridiculous as having a half-man as my only servant in this third world excuse of a Martian base."

Eddelrittuo couldn't take it anymore and gave a little kick to Lemrina's shin. Instead of wincing like she hoped, Lemrina just looked down like a piece of gum was stuck on her shoe. She smiled, and Eddelrittuo never like it when the Princess made the messy mouth motions in front of her.

"Joke's on you, Dorito, because I didn't even feel it."

Eddelrittuo made a hamster squeak come out of her mouth. "Damn it."

"It's the privilege of being crippled, dearie. Now I demand a sponge bath from your dwarven hooves, corn chip girl."

"But you just cleaned yourself an hour ag—"

"The Lemrina demands it!"

x x x

Away from Martian affairs was the steadfast apathy of Trident Base, where bridge officers decided to dress into spats to show how little concern they had for Marineros, soldiers did their little gossip and chit-chat over who loved who and who was a secret Martian spy, and Captain Magbaredge sang the 'I love war. War loves me. It's like legal anarchy!' song. Every time a superior tried to call to Magbaredge's end, she just powered off her phone and continued whipping Nina and Mizusaki to form her own goon squad. It's quite a shame that Marito and Yuki aren't around to account for how the Deucalion crew have fared.

At his bunk, Inaho laid down, eyepatch on, and pondered about his lost loves. He longed for his princess, as much as he longed for his egg-pooper. This young man, Slaine Troyard, managed to avoid his bullets and almost got the better of him once during that skirmish. Inaho decided he wasn't like any other Martian who had bled by his hands. He was special. This Slaine was someone that Inaho will have to analyze in the future. Maybe he was just a lucky little boy who threw him off at the wrong time, but Inaho was too jaded to realize that coincidences were just coincidences.

Inaho contemplated if Slaine could be similar to himself. Could Slaine have a neural link engine of his own? Is he just as robotic as his Earth counterpart? Does he also go 'beep' every time someone tries to hug him? For once, Inaho used his imagination to deduce his relationship with this Slaine fellow, and how he fits in with his lust for the Princess. Or the closest someone like Inaho could ever get to lust. Maybe he was a rival in his mission to conquer the Princess and replace her crops with a stadium-size chicken stable, or he could possibly be an ally that just needed some understanding. If he wanted to use the Princess for some other purpose besides Inaho's dreams, maybe he could compromise. He could turn that two-pack into a tripod. But whatever the cost, Inaho needed this experiment realized. He wanted to see that Slaine again. And tame him.

Of course, Calm Craftman had to enter the door and interrupt Inaho from his private time.

"Hey," Calm said. "Inko wanted something with—wait, what are you doing?"

"I am talking to myself," Inaho said.

"And, why?"

"I do not believe I need to find an answer when you can just go outside and see everyone on this ship."

Calm nodded. "Yeah, I know. Sometimes, dumbasses can bring you down and stop you from doing something fun. One time, I was trying to hit on the Martian girl, Rayet, and she kept laughing whenever I told her my name. Like I get it, 'Calm Craftman' sounds stupid when you're not used to the lingo from my country."

"And what is your country?"

Calm shrugged his shoulders. "I forgot. Ask me in a few weeks, and maybe I'll remember. Anyway, she was stupid for laughing at my name. Girls always laugh at the nice guys."

Inaho turned his head to meet Calm's vision. His eye dilated to show that something about that last sentence bugged him, which was a shame since the eyepatch blocked that away from Calm's sight.

"And I think that's why you haven't consummated the deed with Inko."

"What do you mean?"

"Last time I was by your bunk, I just heard you two yelling at each other instead of the right of the first night. Anyway, you deserve more than that, because you're better than the people on the ship. Better than me, even."

Inaho did not respond. He only continued to stare at Calm while mentally probing his excuses for not getting laid.

"You're like our Odin, always saving the day while only having one eye to guide you."

"Odin?"

"Yeah, you know. The Norse God guy who—"

"I am aware of that. What I wonder is the analogues between Odin and I. Odin is intended to be a supreme deity in Germanic folklore, watching over his kin as the All-Father. Even centuries after Nordic mythology has faded from the mainstream, Odin is still recognized by people who do not even know the context behind his appearance."

"Yeah, because he looks like Santa Claus after a bar fight."

"But how Odin has still lingered in cultural memory intrigues me, because of the religions that use his name. He has many pagan followings, from the Odin Brotherhood to Wotanism, but some of his followers have tainted the legacy of Odin to show less progressive ideas."

"You mean?"

"Odin and his mythology were popularized through Richard Wagner's Ring of the Nibelung. The opera—while popular with the masses—was loved in particular by the Third Reich in the early twentieth century, whose people were rumored to have blasted the music at the camps. Since then, Norse mythology has been tainted by the imagery of the Germanic atrocities.

"It proves interesting how I—someone referred to as Odin—am currently fighting a war with people who stylize themselves after German oppressors. Despite saying they have their own culture and claim to be beyond above humanity, they adhere to Germanic customs and bring back old rituals like serfdoms and royalties. Maybe I am getting ahead of myself, but they have become the society that would idolize the old Gods far above what our society would do. They have become the Germans who once worshipped Odin and his kind. So is it not irony that dictates an All-Father analogue should slay those who once followed him? Should I be appointed to the position of a God, and judge people that he barely knows?"

Calm realized that Inaho stopped talking and re-focused his attention to him. "Oh, sorry. I forgot what you were saying after the 'brotherhood' part."

Inaho made a slight sign of a frown. "Do you want me to repeat what I just said?"

"No, no. I don't know any of that Norse crap. I was just saying you were Odin because your eyepatch reminds me of the guy from Son of the Mask."

"Son of the Mask?"

Calm smiled. "Yeah, that movie with the dancing baby and the green dog. You totally reminded me of the old guy in the film that Bob Hoskins played. Yeah, Bob Hoskins could totally play you if they ever made a movie about us."

"Bob Hoskins is deceased."

"Exactly! He'd fit you more because you've both got those doll eyes that can't emote. Don't know anyone alive who could act the way you do, so why not get a dead guy?"

x x x

Huge moaning bellowed from Marineros base as the fleet disembarked.

"Count Saazbaum," Slaine said, his Tharsis moving out in the frontline. "Was that really necessary?"

"Oh dear," Saazabaum said, his Dioscuria II already a kilometer ahead of everyone else. "I thought my parenting you in the past few minutes would have improved your vocabulary, so you would have asked, 'Daddy Saazbaum, might I ask why are you making that glorious noise?' And the answer would be 'Son, that noise you heard was meant to be a battle cry, a call for arms, so to speak.' A great general requires a great means to rally his soldiers, and nothing fulfills that job more than a godly wail. Do keep up, Slaine. You're one of the Saazbaums, after all."

Slaine Saazbaum-Troyard considered arguing, but realized he didn't want more time wasted on Saazbaum's excuse for banter. Fighting amongst fools was never pleasant, especially in space. Space was supposed to be where no one could hear you scream, not where everyone could hear you make statements that may have sounded smart in your head but would make mental patients roll their eyes when spoken out loud. Space is an abyss, and the abyss cares not for quirks or quibbles. Not very friendly advice for space explorers, but traveling through space necessitates having an IQ larger than the amount of Kanto Pokemon.

Along with Saazbaum and son was the new Stygis Squadron, led by Countess Beifong and unfortunately following the same procedures that got their predecessors killed. Some people always repeat the same action with the hopes of a different reaction. Some may call them idiots. We call them pioneers. Counts Mary and Barry followed along, adding to the hypothesis that Martians followed lemming culture in how to die. The only difference being you expect lemmings to be smart enough to do that, while Martians don't have such expectations.

The only expectation they meet is the ability to have giant, black, spiky robots that look like they're fighting for Khorne than for Vers. Count Saazbaum fulfilled that anticipation with the Dioscuria II, a copy of his previous Kataphrakt he used back on Earth. One wonders what goes on between Saazbaum and the concept of cloning. Perhaps he should talk about that with the Martian therapists who sadly don't exist. And if they were to exist, his doctor should also ask what's with the Dioscuria II's design, littered with so many thorns and red streaks that they'll wonder if Saazbaum ever grew out of the grunge era.

On the Earth force's end, the Trident Base was preparing yet again for the assault. And by preparing, I mean Captain Magbaredge shoving a rook up her nostril and having to pluck it out again. But the idiocy hid how sure she was that the Earth forces would win. Magbaredge knew that with Ensign Kaizuka aboard her ship, she would never die, and her ensuing tyranny will be sure to take over safe from any external conflicts stopping her power hike. The bird gods promised her that, so she knew that such a prophecy would be fulfilled.

As Magbaredge continued to daydream, Nina sent the commands to all nearby pilots. She turned her head to her superior and said, "Captain, we need to prepare the Deucalion and Trident Base for incoming guerrilla tactics."

"Okay, and—"

"And it doesn't mean anything involving monkeys, so I'll slap you in the face if you say otherwise, Captain."

"Why would you harm the face that you'll see later tonight, Neener-neener? Domestic abuse isn't nice."

"Just shut up and let me take the lead, Captain."

Magbaredge puffed up her cheeks and turned her head, irritated that she couldn't get her way with Nina this time. Meanwhile, Nina went back to the main controls and signaled the ally Kataphrakts nearby. Said ally Kataphrakts amounted to nothing more than Inko, Rayet, and Inaho.

"Time for another blasé blast off," Rayet said while trying to bite some dead skin off from her lip. It's a dirty habit, but no one ever like a crusty lip. "Ink, I need boosts."

"Boosts for what?" Inko asked.

"Boosts so I can turn my shield on."

"Just turn on the knob."

"Which knob?"

"The blue one."

"Oh, I thought you meant the knob you can't get because it's stuck on a mannequin."

Inko's eyes narrowed, even if Rayet couldn't see her making that face. "Just shut up and turn it on."

Rayet turned the knob, allowing an umbrella-shaped shield to form around her Kataphrakt. Immediately after they raised their guard up, Magbaredge turned on the relay and said, "Kids, use the space wind to stop the Martian guns from hitting!"

"Why the space wind?" Inko asked. "Why not just rely on the shields?"

"Because space wind is like Earth wind, except strong enough to blow away shots."

"But space wind was only confirmed recently as an actual phenomenon, so wouldn't it be unwieldy to use it for military tactics now before can properly study it. How do we know it's not going to backfire on—"

"Bitch, we're piloting giant robots with umbrellas on them! You can either deal with that or crash into an asteroid like the nugget kid did."

Inko's Kataphrakt went into the space wind as per Magbaredge's orders.

"Captain, my mecha is starting to shake."

"That's the winds working their space magic on you, giving your suit buffs against projectile damage."

"You're just making things up!"

"But the Little People of Sakigake told me that, and they wouldn't lie to me. Now where's Mustang 00?"

"Mustang 00? I thought we only started our codenames from 11."

"Here I am," Inaho said on the relay.

"Wait," Inko said. "If he has the Aldnoah, and he's double-zero. Aldnoah and zero… Then that means—"

"If you think about that too much," Magbaredge said. "The Little People are going to crush your skull in. They don't like questions about that. Now go!"

The three Kataphrakts proceeded with their sortie against the Martian threat. Instead of flying with protection, Inaho decided to go without a shield. Calm told him to use a witty comeback involving drizzles when asked about it, but nobody did. Inaho almost felt disappointed by that. To alleviate that unbalance in his emotions, Inaho took a grappling hook and swung it through the nearby asteroid belt so he could ride through them like Tarzan. I'm not exactly sure how that works in space, but why question Inaho's tactics?

Nevertheless, Inaho trusted the asteroids. He didn't need shields to avoid their damage, because they wouldn't hurt him in the first place. They were his friends. He could stand around a group of asteroids, and people would think they were peas in a pod.

"So Marineros Base will probably attack in 30 seconds," Magbaredge said on the relay, which was followed by a yawn that would have scratched Inaho's eardrums if they weren't already enhanced by cybernetics. They did make Inko and Rayet wince, and that was all that Magbaredge needed to feel consoled. "They might try to kill us again, so do what you always do and kill them back. Yeah."

Inaho didn't listen, having traveled away from the rest of the Earth forces, making wild but somehow accurate headshots at Stygis squad members. It was like hunting ducks, except you can feel bad when ducks die. What was a life-ending experience for them was just normal for Inaho, who couldn't even bother to acknowledge the people he was killing. Go on and ask him the names of the people he's killed, and he won't even remember one. It's like trying to remember the name of that one bus driver or the exact order number you had at a restaurant.

Instead, Inaho met the one man whose name he will remember. Slam Troyer, I mean Slaine Troyard. His orange Kataphrakt faced his Tharsis, no asteroids or cannon fodder to get in the way of their duel. Even when trapped in a giant suit, Inaho and Slaine could feel each other's eyes looking through their souls. Inaho's armor may be simple, and Slaine's may be too elegant, but they didn't let this dissonance get in the way of how they were equal in fighting spirit. This could be the final bout to decide who was—

"Creag en tuire!" Saazbaum yelled, interrupting this moment by shooting out his arms to rocket punch Inaho. "Time we settle the score, orange-kun."

"Saazbaum!" Slaine yelled.

"I thought we agreed that you would call me 'daddy'."

Saazbaum's detachable iron fists missed their target. Inaho delayed his eventual fight with Slaine for now and flew back to the asteroids, hoping that his space rock friends can pummel Saazbaum's Dioscuria II into submission. Saazbaum followed, but the asteroids never made contact with his suit. Thanks to the scientific progress of Count Daveross, his armor was reinforced with an anti-bullet force field that could somehow melt small projectiles before they could even touch him. None of Inaho's pet rocks could stop Saazbaum, as his Kataphrakt was about to catch the Earthling's. Inaho even summoned the force of a giant asteroid to block Saazbaum's path, but he cut it in half with his laser blade.

Inaho took this opportunity to rip off a part of his arm and throw it at the Dioscuria II. Studies show that if you did that in a fight with your real body, your chances of victory would be as high as your heart rate after the self-decapitation. Saazbaum turned to slice it, but it exploded right in his line of vision, dissipating the force field somehow.

"Inko, now." Inaho said, causing Inko to appear out of nowhere and shoot at the Dioscuria now that his defenses were in disarray.

"So you've beaten me at your own game," Saazbaum said.

"Do you not mean that I have beaten you at 'your' own game?" Inaho asked.

"I stand by my prior sentence. What won't stand is you after I release my final form!"

Sparks started to rain down the Dioscuria II, tearing apart the armor and mutating the fresh black paint into a rustic brown flavor.

"Wait, this isn't supposed to be my final form!"

The rain was like acid, corroding the Dioscuria II and destroying the vital areas of the Kataphrakt, casting the remaining seconds until it would explode.

"Someone get Daveross on the relay, because I didn't pay for this to be in my robot. I wanted the feeling of hydraulics, not the feeling of hydrocephalus!"

"This wasn't a design error," Slaine said on the relay. "You can blame me for what's happening to you."

"What?"

"It's a trap. A trap meant for someone stupid enough to try and swim through asteroids instead of avoiding them like a sane person. I don't know how Inaho Kaizuka managed to evade the trap, but you getting ensnared works just as well."

"Slaine, this isn't how father-son time is supposed to work!"

"What made you think that I would ever value you as a father?"

"I saved your life. That's kind of like giving birth to you, but again. Then again, wouldn't that make me your mother?"

"You almost killed the woman I loved, and that you think you can be a parent to me?"

"Oh, you two wouldn't have worked out in the long run. It would have been two months of living in a cupboard while Asseylum dumped you and had to live with a litter of Slainelets shoved in her knapsack. I was saving you both from an unhappy relationship."

"By shooting her?"

"Hey, me shooting a load into her at least won't have the ramifications of parenthood, so—"

Before Saazbaum could finish, the Dioscuria II exploded. The sight was like if a prune-colored kitty was heated in a microwave for two minutes.

"So," Inko said to Inaho. "Shouldn't we try and kill the other guy before he comes back?"

"No," Inaho said. "He has learned his lesson for today."

"What lesson?"

"The lesson of being a gold digger."

x x x

After the battle ended, the Vers forces had to do something they weren't used to: a funeral. The Saazburial was accompanied by most of the knights, except Count Barry who was scared of dead bodies. Broadcast for all of both worlds to see, the Saazburial was hosted by none other than Slaine, standing in front of a giant picture of Count Saazbaum to show who still wore the pants in this relationship. But enough of that, and let us hear the pantsless bastard speak.

"Because Saazbaum named as his heir soon before he died, I have been accused of being a gold digger. I want to address that claim, because my father was not messing with some broke figures. But now, I want to address the Martian people regarding Saazbaum's value, because we have lost a hero to our glorious and noble ca—"

"Blah blah blah," Lemrina said at the front seat.

"Princess, please. I'm trying to do the speech."

"We hear this same speech at every military funeral, about how to turn sorrow into anger and use it to strike down the enemies or something stupid like that. Cut the propaganda shit."

"She's right," Harklight said. "For once. Maybe not repeat the same things said from Count Garma's funeral. Or Count Clovis's."

"But I don't know what else to say!" Slaine said. "Other than how he wants his tombstone to read 'Bow wow wow yippee-yo yippee-yay. He was the sauce, bum!' I really don't know where to go from there."

"Will there be food after the wake's over?" Count Mary asked.

"No."

All of the audience ran out in droves, with the exception of Harklight. He went up to the podium where Slaine stood, carrying a freshly cleaned jacket.

"Well, I would've liked the speech you would've come up with," Harklight said.

"Thanks, but I just want to go back to bed and forget this ever happened."

"But before you go, Saazbaum said in his will that he wanted to give you his personal blazer."

"Why?"

"As a fatherly gift. And his will insisted that you put it on once bestowed upon you."

"But I'm already my coat. Wearing a double coat will make me sweaty."

"Maybe ghost dad wants to see you sweat, Sir Slaine."

"Just put it on my back."

"Like a cape?"

And so Harklight adorned Slaine with Saazbaum's magenta coat, layering it on his shoulders like he was a burlesque superman. Slaine had to admit, having the late Count's jacket on made feel powerful. He felt like he could topple nations alone with this jacket. Maybe Saazbaum did want what was best for him after all.

"Oh," a voice from the jacket said. "You didn't think you would hear the last of me, did you?"

Slaine widened his eyes, aware of whose voice that was. He wanted to take the jacket off, but he couldn't as if it was sewn to his skin. This had to be part of the bastard's plan, he thought. This was his plot to make sure one remaining shred of his personality would live on forever in Slaine. This was the end of Slaine Troyard as he knew it, and the beginning of Saazslaine Saazbaum-Troyard née Saazbaum. Esquire.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Some people spend countless hours doing nothing, aware of that state and wanting to break free of that procrastination, but unable to because of the situation involved. That's what Yuki Kaizuka thought as she sat in a medical ward, tending to her relative Inaho. Months passed since the shooting incident, still vivid within Earth memory no matter how much time went by. So in an odd sense, such stagnancy gave Yuki comfort. Inaho could wake up, and it will be like nothing ever changed. They could be a family again, he could talk to his friends again, and he can get trapped in a robot fighting for his life again.

Bandages covered all of Inaho's head except for his left eye. While his head had to be shaved in order for the doctors to do some proper brain surgery, Yuki asked them to shave him on a weekly basis so he will one day wake up with a straightedge look. And on the change that Inaho died, she wanted to remember him as that kind of guy, and maybe not as a stoic drone who only had a spark of emotion whence given the sight of precious princess pussy. Some would have called Inaho's last moments noble, but Yuki didn't need to be reminded. That time just felt like a hastily pulled moment concocted for mere shock value instead of a natural progression of life. Yuki knew that life occasionally offered such bleak cliffhangers that come out of nowhere and go away as soon as human existence goes on, but she wanted more satisfaction in her daily routine than that.

Maybe it's asking too much to want neither shocks nor bores in her time on this world, and Yuki just wanted a life of moderately interesting events than a zigzagging series of pities. Living with Inaho was never a comfortable life for her, but she treasured those moments all the same. When she closed her eyes, she could go back to those times and remember them like the time never passed, like when she sent him to his first day of school, or when she told him how to talk to girls, or how she explained that she was his sister despite giving birth to him with her own uterus. It was truly an experience of platonic sibling love that definitely did not involve a child pregnancy, cover-ups on a birth certificate, or having to run away from her parents and tell Inaho they were dead.

Before she could continue with these thoughts, she felt something rub her crotch. At first, she thought Marito had snuck up from behind, or God forbid, Magbaredge had somehow probed her, but she looked and saw Inaho's hand. The tribal customs taught that if a boy unknowing touched your genitals even if they were in critical condition, your duty was to yell such war cries as 'Ecchi!' or 'Baka!' before beating them senseless.

But Yuki had long forsaken those religious teachings, instead looking at a wakened Inaho and said, "Hey, Nao. What took you so long?"

"Is it time for milkies?" Inaho asked in a sedative-enhanced voice.

Her expression dimmed. "Inaho, we stopped doing that since you grew teeth."

"Wait, I have teeth?"

Well, physical rehabilitation was a choice for a reason.

x x x

About a year later, after Inaho had refused physical rehabilitation in favor of the more costly procedure to become a cyborg, as you do when you find yoga to be too much of an ethnic fitness to handle, Yuki Kaizuka and her friend Marito left the boy's company and went to the Clydesdale Platoon in Yemen. This time, they were focusing on reconnaissance at the Mazuurek Landing Castle. Just what might be a Mazuurek one would ask, and the answer would be a Polish cake. Why would a noble family name themselves after a Polish cake? That would be like having a troop called the Spumoni Squadron led by Colonel Muffin. But who can blame the Martians and their love of naming themselves after food? In a culture that involves wiping out countries with pieces of the moon, having food for last names almost makes one forgive them in that slight. You can't stay mad at someone who guns down small children when his name is Lieutenant Louis Lutefisk.

Marito and Yuki docked their Kataphrakts on an aircraft carrier, exiting their cockpits and looking at each other like they were friends who were on the midst of having benefits.

"So the Captain told us the Deucalion is coming here," Marito said while unzipping his coat. His expression soured after the D-word came out of his mouth.

Yuki raised her eyebrow. "Really, why? Shouldn't they be defending Trident Base?"

"I said that too, but Magbaredge heard my voice from the relay, and I had to run as far away as possible."

"Dude, I'm sure she's forgiven you for the whole 'killing her brother' thing."

Marito groaned. "That's what I'm afraid of. Don't want to bring that up, even if it's supposed to affirm or whatever mopey shit's supposed to happen. Besides, it's not like a simple 'I forgive you' will absolve me of anything."

"But it's Magbaredge, so—"

"Exactly, it's Magbaredge. And more to the point, you know the real reason why they're coming here. Because we can't do shit without a kid in orange armor saving our skin. You think one day, when they ever make a movie about all this, they'll make a spin-off specifically about us? Like a double-oh-eighty, or an oh-eighth MS Team?"

Yuki could see that Marito was shaking as he talked, showing the major symptoms of the dreadful illness known as sobering up.

"What? Like a franchise? You know that's not gonna happen."

"Why not? The Kataphrakts, if you shrink them down, look like something a kid would put on their shelf."

"What kind of sick fuck would make merchandise out of war criminals?"

"A bald fuck? And doesn't always have to be about the toys though. Maybe about the characters, like if they make toys of us if we get popular enough."

"That's expecting too much, you know? Not like I want them making a movie about my life anyway."

"It wouldn't be about all of your life though. Just the ones with your brother in them."

"Exactly. Don't want my life turned into those sappy fifteen-minute morning dramas."

"You'd fit the part though. They just need to find an actress with your simpering smile. Like Horikita."

"Don't."

"Come on, it'll be romantic. Ten weeks if you being this strong female role model who gets put down a lot by the Captain, and a pretty-boy, who plays me, turns your life upside-down with the help of holding hands and a piggy-back ride of love. Sponsored by P&G."

For once, Marito giggled.

"Oh, fuck you."

Not-Horikita took her eyes away from Marito's and walked back to base. If only there was zero gravity so she could moonwalk away. Maybe the Deucalion was experiencing better conversation, Yuki thought. And maybe the war will end without something really stupid happening.

x x x

Magbaredge cackled in her chair, much to Nina, Mizusaki, Inko, and everyone else's annoyance. Her laughter could be heard throughout the rooms and corridors of the Deucalion, even reaching Rayet in the secret cave she's chiseled in the ship. They probably should be used to this, especially when there was nothing to provoke such laughter. But if they did grow accustomed, there lay the sneaking suspicion that Magbaredge would pick up that idea and do something else to rile them into a frenzy.

Deciding to live dangerously, Nina turned to Magbaredge and asked, "Captain, why are you laughing?"

Magbaredge rolled her head to Nina, not exactly one hundred and eighty degrees, but enough to cast doubts on her spinal work. "Because step one of my plan is complete."

"And step one is, Captain?"

Magbaredge frowned. "Nina dear, can you raise your ear nearer to me so I can whisper? I don't want our golden boy to listen to what I have in store."

Knowing better, but deciding to play along, Nina stood up from her seat and positioned her head a centimeter away from Magbaredge's mouth.

"I took some troops away from Trident Base," she whispered.

"Why, Captain?"

"To bolster my forces, of course. I have to play the king so I can get a cushier job than the one now."

"But they need those troops, Captain."

"Exactly. And that's how I'll make sure there will be one less enemy to worry about."

Nina's expression didn't change upon hearing a potential hint of mutiny. "What's this supposed to lead up to, Captain?"

"Oh, you'll see, my future Vice President. You'll see. Unless you spill the beans to the other Captains, then I'll have to make Mizusaki my second-in-command."

The thought of betraying the other forces in order to further their position in the UFE hierarchy intrigued Nina, because that meant not having to be a bridge officer for once. It might mean actually doing things for once. Times like these reminded her of why she was still on the Deucalion, that and Magbaredge's tongue.

"Can you tell me more when we're alone, Captain?" Nina asked.

"Yes, yes. It'll be like Three Kingdoms, where we're just like lowly vassals until that day when we stab the emperor and get his dough. And I mean figurative dough unlike the last time I said that word."

"And not the putty, Captain."

"They thought I was crazy. They thought they could just throw the crazy lady in a third-rate ship with some teenagers for crewmembers. Wait until they get a look at me once I'm done, then let them call me crazy again…"

Magbaredge rolled up her hand into a fist and smashed it on her armchair, somehow activating the speaker to all areas in the ship.

"Attention, rent boys and rent girls! We're going to Earth for our next mission. I know Earth sucks and all, but just pretend the gravity's hugging you. The earthquakes mean that it's really hugging you. Also, if Trident Base tries to call back about needing more troops or guns, don't answer them. They just wanna steal your thunder."

x x x

Unbeknownst to the scheming, Marito and Yuki were in talks with Captain Clyde. His captain's quarters were much cleaner than Magbaredge's, which was littered with snot-covered chess pieces and carvings in the walls. It did lack the oomph that came from being a Captain. Where was the pizzazz or the bravado? It's almost as if Captain Clyde lived in an actual room instead of some kind of palace like his counterparts on both sides of the war do. But there was one treasure in his lair that could deem Clyde's quarters a formidable rival for the best military dwelling. One special to his heart (and his liver), and that was—

"Brandy, my underlings?" Captain Clyde offered to Marito and Yuki, clasping a small, dark bottle of the drink in his withered hand.

Marito coughed and narrowed his eyes at the prospect of alcohol in his body, and not having to hide it like prior instances of binge drinking. Sadly, that anomaly in the mind known as a conscience got in the way. "Captain, I've been trying to lay off the sauce. I can't. At least, not right now."

"I could do for a shot," Yuki said, grabbing Clyde's bottle and pouring it into her mouth.

"You know he probably drank out of himself, right?"

Yuki gulped it down. "So?"

"It's like an indirect kiss."

"Dude, I'm not gonna let cooties get in the way of sweet liquor."

"That's the spirit," Captain Clyde said. "Like a genie in a lamp. Grants you three wishes, and they're all to put a smile on your face."

Marito coughed again. "Yuki, I thought you didn't drink."

Yuki's cheeks grew red from the Calvados. "I need all I can if I have to see my Inaho again."

Marito's heart thumped from hearing his name. Not because of any special connection with the boy—he hadn't seen him in ages—but with regard to Inaho's importance in respect to Marito's own. The idea if his life being a television show came back, but less of a joke and more of a life crisis for the poor lieutenant. What if his life was in tune with a universal narrative, but he wasn't the main character? He was just in the sidelines while the real players make their move, and every step he would ever take was just a ripple in a puddle. Maybe the powers that be demand Inaho's actions take precedence over everyone else's, where even the boy sneezing has more impact on the war than Marito taking down a hundred soldiers.

And that was what chilled Koichiro Marito, how every sacrifice he had to make in his life mattered so little when compared to what a teenager has done. The 1999 war was supposed to be the most cataclysmic moment of his life, his friends' lives, and the lives of everyone else he knew. To apply story conventions and realize such personal losses and deathly traumas were only a prequel of what's to come, only a maniac can persevere if that were truly the case in life.

But then his mind drifted off and wondered if they'll change his name to 'Mario' in the show based on their lives. The only thing worse than realizing you're a side character is realizing you're a side character whose name people won't spell correctly.

"Lieutenant!" Captain Clyde yelled, taking the Calvados bottle and slamming on the table for Marito to hear.

Marito shook his head and blinked his eyes a few times before mentally coming back to the room. He could see Yuki glaring and the Captain resembling a disapproving sitcom dad. "Uh, wha? What?"

"You were staring at your own crotch for two minutes."

"I was just thinking, Captain."

"Well get off your navel-contemplating and join us drinking buddies!"

"But Captain, I don't want to dri—"

"Lu Bu's cousin didn't want to drink, and look what happened to him! Now drink!"

Marito took the bottle and stared at it for a second before shoving all of the contents into his mouth. He could swear a piece of glass from the bottle was now stuck in his gums, but he didn't mind. It hurt like the Mary Hogarth-era Dickens, but it was better than fighting Martians.

x x x

"So are you a count?" Lemrina asked to Slaine, both could-have-been kings sitting around the Marineros lounge.

"Actually," he said while rubbing the back of his head. Not because he was embarrassed, but because the Saazblazer he inherited had some spare Martian lice on it. Harklight offered to shave Slaine's head to remove the pests, but the mere concept of being bald made Slaine refuse without a single thought of reconsideration. "I'm not sure. I know I'm a knight though."

"What's the difference between a knight and a count?"

"Princess Lemrina!" Eddelrittuo said from behind her seat. "Haven't you asked too many questions as it—"

"Silence, dwarflet. I want to ask a question to our 'dear' lord Slaine."

"Well, Princess Lemrina. The knight and count are part of the chain of command. You go from Knight to Baron to Viscount to Count to Marquis to—"

"Such a shame there isn't a Marquis here. Otherwise, things would get accomplished."

"For the worse."

"Hmph. Marquis Saazbaum-Troyard. That would suit our boy, wouldn't it? Wouldn't you want to be an MST?"

"Mmm," Slaine could only say due to the Saazblazer constricting his waist a bit, possibly in reaction to the idea of Slaine ascending beyond the late Saazbuam's position. He had to exhale all of the excess air in his lungs to relieve the pressure even by just a little. "Maybe we should focus on matters now before talking about rising through the ranks."

"Why? Saucy's dead."

"Exactly. We need to re-organize now that the guy leading this whole operation's dead."

Given that he was directly the reason for their current predicament, Slaine had no room to talk. But Slaine having weight in his arguments would be like a tetraplegic sheep trying to escape the slaughter. Alas, he had to do something to amuse the Princess, with her glued-on smile hiding malice that still hasn't forgotten the kiss. How dare Slaine steal Lemrina's lipginity? A nerd kissing a picture of Lemrina on his computer screen would have more validity than Slaine's lips.

Lemrina tapped the arm of her wheelchair with an index finger, one that looked manicured into something one shouldn't run with. Except given Lemrina's state, she had no problem running with scissors.

"Are the other Counts okay with your plan to lead them?"

"Count Barry said he liked me. Not so sure about Count Mary on the other hand. At least he didn't try to stab me, so we're making… progress."

"They're just being polite."

"Not stabbing people is polite?"

"Yes, acting contrary would be bad for teatime, wouldn't it?"

Lemrina rolled to the lounge window, staring at the stars and probable human remains littering the cosmos.

"After my father died, the only person whom I could trust was Saazbaum. But only out of necessity than any choice of my own. Except…"

"Except?"

"I probably wouldn't have chosen another Count besides him if I was granted the option back then. While I know he would backstab me, I relished it. Who doesn't like a man with a plan? It's actually more difficult to trust those who have no talent for scheming. Don't you think so, Slaine?"

"You mean idiots, right?"

"Of course I mean idiots. Part of the man I trusted for his scheming is now inside you, Slaine."

"Eww."

"So won't you keep up? You may be my handler now, but the leash is thin, and the collar's on the wrong end."

"Lemrina, you don't need to be difficult. Besides, no zero gravity here, so it's not like you can float away like last time."

"I can still slap you. Or make my dwarf slap you. Whichever will probably have the same physical strength, right?"

"I could slap you back."

"No slap-backs."

"Yes to slap-backs!"

Just right by the lounge door, Harklight looked at his master and sighed, depressed that he can't be as madly in love as the Princess was with his lord.

x x x

"Slaine makes my penis soft," Mary said.

This phrase was like a mantra in the Neo-Cruhteo household. The hatred for Slaine was soaked directly into Mary's DNA, almost as if his blood cells would clot and cause an aneurysm at the mere thought of Slaine and his dastardly plans.

Count Barry wasn't having any of it.

"Come on, Mar-mar. Stop talking about Slaine and get to bed."

"What's the point if I can't stop thinking about Slaine? He's like my anti-aphrodisiac. If you shoved a needle up my penis and then slammed the side of my shaft so the needle would break into shards—forever jammed up my mighty urethra—that would still be less painful than thinking about Slaine while having sex."

"Then stop thinking about Slaine and think about me."

"I can't! I need to learn why Saazbaum made him his heir, damn it! He should've made us the heirs after killing our clone-progenitor dad."

"He probably didn't because Saazbaum-Cruhteo sounds like a stupid name."

"It wouldn't if you fused them, like Cruhbuam, or Saazteo."

Barry rested his head on the palm of his hand, mostly because his TMJ was acting up, but also at how petty Mary was being.

"Would've been better than Saazyard any day."

"Mary, this is getting stupid. This is already pretty stupid as it is, but you acting like a teenage girl is not making it less stupid."

"How am I being a teenage girl? It's not like I'm taking pictures of Slaine while he's in the bathroom and posting them on the hangar bay for everyone to see."

"Does he sit down when peeing?"

"Yeah, but—"

"You pervert."

"I only took one picture, Barry!"

"One picture you probably have in your wallet right now. One that probably replaced a picture of me."

"Barry!"

"Just admit that you want to hate-fuck Slaine already."

"I don't, I already told you that he makes my shaft go daft. We got to focus on a picture bigger than where I put my penis in, like the Vers hierarchy."

"So a penis in the political sense?"

"Yep. We must focus on what's about the destroy the Thirty-Seven Clans if we don't watch our moves."

"I thought that orange kid was destroying the Thirty-Seven Clans? I don't even know if it's still thirty-seven clans. It might be twenty-five clans by now. Like, maybe we should focus on the person directly fucking up the hierarchy than Slaine."

"But he killed Saazbaum!"

"Who wasn't going to kill Saazbaum? I know Count Mazuurek was planning to kill him just a few days before the incident. Mary, if you're going to be paranoid and start taking names, at least take the right names."

"But our dignity's on the line!"

In that outburst, a tortilla chip fell out of Mary's hair and dropped on the floor without a hint of damage. It still wasn't edible thanks to all of the hair oils, unless one is in to devouring hair like Count Barry was.

But even without cracking, that chip presented a metaphor for the future of Mars to Count Mary. All of that glory will become stale and beyond the ten-second rule. Political parties will be divided into triangle schemes. The sweet Martian air will have a bitter nacho cheese aroma. All will be lost in the sea of Slaine's dew.

x x x

And Slaine was doing what a good man of authority did, and that was walking through the O-shaped halls doing nothing of importance to the grand scheme at large. It wasn't as if Slaine had the ability to work on the Martian plan, because the Saazblazer was still tugging on his skin. He couldn't push his hand inside his jacket to feel his back, almost as if it had become a second layer of skin for someone whose status as a human being already required debate. This made such tasks like bathing rather difficult for Slaine, who hadn't showered for two days thanks to the Saazblazer, instead using body spray in a futile attempt to cover his stench. Maybe the tailors could help him, even if a single tear could create a worse scar than the whipping incident of yore.

"Why do you resist?" the voice from the jacket asked. "Just accept my conscious, and this suit need no longer constrain you."

The voice didn't even sound like Saazbaum, but something more ethereal and monotone. Maybe Saazbaum also had this issue with the coat, and he just eventually gave in and let it think for him. This might explain all of the eccentricities, at least to Slaine. Then again, the thought of becoming Saazbaum horrified the young lord. He didn't see himself prancing through the base like he was king of the castle, while piloting a giant black robot that could be used as the visual definition of 'over-compensation'.

The Saazblazer sensed the young man had doubts, and decided to go for his more primal desires.

"Must be hard to go to the john while wearing me, doesn't it? You have to lift my flaps and fold it over the toilet, then make sure it doesn't touch the rim or else you'll be carrying a shitstain on you for the entire journey. Just accept me, accept my presence, and you don't have to worry about dipping your clothes in toilet water. Also, your nipples. You haven't been able to feel your nipples for days, haven't you? They're so small and could easily be mistaken for more skin, but they exist all the same. Don't you want to rub them? Don't you want Princess Lemrina to suckle on them? Wouldn't you love to be the royal wet nurse? But that won't happen if you resist me. If you keep on resisting, you're going to have a serious bout of Never Nude syndrome."

While a young master would usually be above these taunts, Slaine did miss being able to squeeze his own breasts. They were the closest he could get to grope a lady's, even if his bosom didn't exactly fill out a bra. And since he barely exercised, they were soft to the touch. Holding his breasts would be like a twelve-year-old girl's. By touching himself, Slaine could achieve the dream that so many pedophiles wanted but could never do without a visit from the health inspector.

Oh, who cared about a little demonic possession? Slaine inhaled and let the Saazbaalic energy seep into him. The surge felt tingly, much less painful than the lord was expecting. He did feel awkward though, like those girls in the 'social experiment' videos that creepy guys make. Even so, he always felt molested whenever talking to another person. His interactions with other people passed the introvert event horizon and into pure inability to the feelings of other people. But still, all for a mirror shot of his stealth nipples. If a shower warranted the advent of Saazslaine, so be it.

x x x

"—The daydreams have been acting up more than ever. At first, I was glad that I had something else to think about other than shooting my friend, but this is worse, and weirder. Like it's one thing to kill your best friend, but something completely different if you view it as part of a backstory on a TV show. Like what if talking to you is just something that only contributes to the story instead of my actual life, and what I just said before the daydreams part isn't even mentioned in the books? I want to break free, but I know that will probably be more destinies riding up my ass instead of something that can prove I'm independent. Don't you think so, Doc?"

"Lieutenant Marito?" Dr. Stiles said. "I was just talking about the war, not your metafictional delusions."

With the psychosis growing deeper, Marito decided to find the closest help he could get at this base. Sadly, his concern for his life being a television show made him look up story tropes, and he decided to decline any nearby therapists under the belief that they couldn't exist if he was living in a story. Whoever heard of therapy in a Japanese mecha action series? That's just silly.

"But I was letting my heart out."

"Look, I'm a medical Doctor, Marito. If you want help, go see a psychiatrist, or given your state now, one of those Internet forums for the people who think their life is a video game, like the Jenova's Witnesses."

"Dr. Stiles! I need someone to guide me, and I can't just find it online."

"Why not? Works for me when it's time to do a surgery."

"But doctor, it's like—wait, you mean when it's time to do the surgery?"

"Yeah, I look up walkthroughs and Let's Operates when doing organ transplants. Makes these things so easier, and funnier."

"And the other doctors let you do that?"

Dr. Stiles arched his shoulders. "Yeah, sure they do. Why get a PhD when you can watch DSP? Anyway about the war—"

"Why do you need to talk to me about the war?"

"Because there's nothing else going on."

"No, there literally has to be something else going on besides the war, so why are you talking to me specifically about the war? This is more proof, isn't it? Like this is supposed to be one of those exposition things they do in stories to pad out time."

"Marito, I just want to talk about the war. Can't I without you having an existential crisis?"

"But this isn't regular chit-chat! Who goes to their friends and says, 'Hey wanna talk about the war?' unless you're some kind of military nut. And are you a military nut, Dr. Stiles?"

"I watched a documentary onc—"

"Exactly! You could give less of a shit about war history, so why are we talking about this now other than a means for exposition? It's just going to be five minutes of you telling me why Earth and Mars will never unite because of the futility of human interaction, and how our souls are weighed down by gravity, right?"

"Well, the first half, yeah."

"See, this is all coming together."

"Lieutenant, maybe we can talk later when you're not so tense."

"What tense? Present? Past? How do I know this isn't a flashback right now?"

"Marito, please. Just go."

x x x

Having sobered up and grown tired of Marito's path to becoming a conspiracy theorist, Yuki went to the local Yemen marketplace. She had been chosen to be the official ambassador for the UFE due to how she knew two more words in Farsi than everyone else thanks to skimming a dictionary once. Even when she said that Arabic was the official language rather than Farsi, Captain Clyde brushed her off since he thought if you heard one Muslim dialect, you've heard them all. And if she says the wrong thing, at least it won't be his head that gets stoned for it.

But for Yuki's sake, being an ambassador meant virtually nothing but a few minutes of talking per day with the local insurgents. The UFE wanted to set up a partnership with the Islamic National State In Supreme Tribute. INSIST insisted on a world where people could sit upright without slouching, or else a beheading would be in order according to their god Allah Sonhannigan. Don't even dare put your elbows on the table when an INSIST member is the dinner host. For all of their brutal retributions toward trivial rudeness, the UFE needed them as an ally due to their audacity rivaling that of the Martians. They unfortunately confused INSIST with two prior groups, the Islamic privilege-challenging group known as I-CIS and the local producer of Accutane ICyst, before being able to settle on the right organization of armed rebels. This can once again be blamed on Captain Clyde's inability to distinguish one Arab group from another.

What can't be blamed on Captain Clyde is a wild Kataphrakt attack just meters away from where Yuki was standing. All of those poor fruits and baubles were thrown about by the gusts the robot had channeled everywhere around it, like if farts were AT Fields. Everyone went to duck and cover, because that will definitely save you from robot crossfire.

The Kataphrakt had a cone for a head while metal ice cream scoops revolved around it, and the only flavor it was serving was death.

"Who has been stealing my precious Calvados?" the Kataphrakt's pilot said. "If someone fesses up, I'll give them ten more seconds to live than everyone else."

Being from Yemen, the civilians had no clue what he was saying. This bastard had to act like a white immigrant and not speak proper Arabic.

The Clydesdale Squad Kataphrakts of the UFE arrived to do the fandango with the enemy. Yuki decided to do something stupid and run away from hiding and into the UFE's sight so they could rescue her. Luckily for her, one soldier was also stupid and decided to honor that wish.

"Yuki!" Marito said, stopping his suit and kneeling in front of Yuki, grabbing her in his hand and throwing her in the cockpit. "We bungled the Mazuurek mission!"

"I can see that. How did the Count find out we've been stealing his stash? I thought Magbaredge got that covered!"

"It's Magbaredge, what did you expect? Also, you're sitting on my thigh."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry."

"No, keep doing that."

Yuki narrowed her eyes.

"It's not what you think. I need the pain to make sure I pay attention to this and not to that TV show theory stuck in my head."

"So you need to pain the mindfuck away. Okay. Now how do we kill this guy?"

"With bullets."

Marito shot five rounds rapid at Count Mazuurek, which didn't do anything thanks to the anti-bullet technology of Count Daveross. In fact, the ice cream/sphere/orb thingies were actually beta models for Daveross's etheric beam locators. Maybe Slaine can shove a few of these up his chest if he wants the Counts to notice him as a proper lord.

"Now how do we kill him?"

"I guess we dissipate his field or whatever the fuck your brother did with the sword guy."

Count Mazuurek's balls gyrated even faster around his body, summoning a holy sandstorm on the field. The Clydesdale Squad was being sucked into the void, with little use in trying to fall back.

Sweat fell from Marito's eyebrows. "Okay, so we're fighting a tornado robot. Yuki, how do we stop tornadoes?"

"How should I know?"

"You've got those Inaho genes in you. Come up with a plan."

"Hey, when after two years of studying on these things, and your only plan is to run around and shoot at the bad guy, do you expect me to be any different?"

"But you gotta be smart about this, because you're Asian."

"So are you!"

While they kept on bickering, Clydesdale 22 ran to Mazuurek to shoot him point blank. That move only made sure to tear off his right arm. Not wanting that to happen to his real right arm, Clydesdale 22 ran back and cowered behind Marito.

"The accelerometer's off the charts," Yuki said.

"Yeah, I can see that from the giant fucking tornado trying to kill us."

"Okay, so Captain Clyde gave us the specs on this guy's Kataphrakt. He can manipulate gravity to create magnitude waves."

"Magnitude waves?"

"Also, he makes loud noises."

Count Mazuurek screeched into the communication relay. Normally, Marito would freak out due to Yuki making his thigh go numb, the impending threat of death, and screams turning his ears into pus-bubbles, but at least this put his mind off of the idea that he was stuck inside a TV show.

"Ah, goddamnit!" Marito said. "The theory came back."

"How did it come back?"

"I don't know, I just heard some cheeky guy narrate some things and now I'm thinking about the TV show thing again, and it fucking hurts!"

Marito took his hands off of the controls and started to furiously rub his temples.

"So is there anybody to help us, because I've got a bumping migraine!"

"No, Clydesdale 22 and 33 are asleep."

"Asleep?!"

"Yeah, I hear snoring on the relay. It's hard to figure out from Mazuurek's screaming, but it's there."

"How can they be asleep? We're gonna die and—wait, if this is a TV show, there will be a last minute rescue."

"Dude, do I have to slap you so you can lay off the theory for fuck's sake?"

"No, relax. In two seconds, your brother's probably gonna come out of nowhere and rescue us."

And then a laser from the sky fell and landed on Count Mazuurek's mecha, ending the sandstorm, the noise, and the furor of an Orbital Knight in need of his sauce.

"Deucalio' to the rescue-o!" a familiar mad captain yelled on the relay. "I'm like that satellite that kills people from space!"

"See?" Marito said to Yuki. "I told you. Two seconds. My theory's no longer a theory anymore."

"You know, I liked you better when you kept harping about killing that Humeray guy."

"I liked me better back then too."

x x x

"Real fucking pain to clean all of this debris," Captain Fahdder of Trident Base said. He wanted to finally relax after beating the Martians twice in their own game, but someone had to run off without doing the paperwork. Hell, she ran off with the paperwork, so Fahdder had to take several hours scouring for ink so he could print out paper, then waste another hour to find a pen. If only his superiors allowed for digital official procedure, but the old ways just stuck whether the military liked it or not.

What could entertain the Captain on a day left without company or pride? Well, a berserk Vers Kataphrakt surging through the asteroids could do the trick. Artificial meteors pulled out their turrets to shoot, but were quickly dispatched by the Kataphrakt's arm blades. All of the lasers hit everything around the Kataphrakt except the Kataphrakt. It was almost as if the AI defenses were trying to aim at the enemy's outline instead of the actual target. Red alert signaled through Trident Base, with guards running everywhere screaming for defenses.

"What happened to the back up, sir?" a private asked to Captain Fahdder. "I thought the Deucalion would come back!"

"I tried calling her a minute ago, but the signal won't reach. Bitch thinks she can borrow half of my crew and never return them when I need them most?"

The captain realized what the Deucalion did to Trident Base, and slammed his fist on the console. "What are the Extremadura squadron reports on which force is attacking us?"

"Just one sir."

"One?"

"Yes, one guy."

"One guy?!"

"Yes."

"Which one?!"

"The Thar-GGG—"

A mere millisecond before being evaporated by the Tharsis, Captain Fahdder wondered just how Tharg of all people could have trounced their entire base. Some say that even after a body is completely obliterated, the consciousness will exist for a few more seconds before evaporating from the mortal realm. And if that were the case, Captain Fahdder's soul would give a very solemn expression regarding his death: Incoherent screaming and hollow attempts to feel his now-absent limbs.

But he relented and allowed the deities to attain his soul, and they accepted this gift with a holy 'Bawk!' to sanctify him.

x x x

"Hey, everybody! Yuki's back! Oh, and Marito's here, I guess."

After the Deucalion docked near Clydesdale, the crew wanted to meet their old friends after distant months of not seeing their faces. Mizusaki was relieved she had someone her age to talk to that wasn't Magbaredge for once. She hadn't been quite able to achieve that for a while, since the captain cut all of the wires in her room, only allowing Mizusaki to go on the websites that were Magbaredge-approved. There could only be a select few on the Deucalion with Internet privileges, and Mizusaki had to make do with a cardboard box that said 'laptop' written on it in poor cursive.

But she was allowed to step out of her rustic abode, joining Inko, Nina, Rayet, and that Calm guy outside the ship to greet Yuki. At least, she'll be allowed once she helps Magbaredge with selling the Trident Base troops they recruited into Martian slavery to help fund her addiction for chesspiece-shaped chunks of crack.

"Yay! Yuki-neeeeeee is back!" an intoxicated Rayet said. "I missed you s-so much!"

"Don't mind Rayet," Inko said. "She found some absinthe on the ship and drank it thinking it was just regular beer. I know it's stupid to confuse the two since the containers are so different, but—"

"Don't worry," Yuki said, waving her hand to show no offense taken. "I've had a lot of those days myself. Just make sure the blonde guy doesn't near her."

"My name's Calm," the blonde guy said.

"Yeah, don't get near her."

"I won't get rowdy."

"Yeah, because you'll be calm in the sheets as you are on the streets. Now get out and let me talk."

Calm groaned and went back to the ship, unwanted by no one but his left hand. Rayet looked at him and tried to follow his path, but Inko grabbed her to stay put.

"So," Yuki said. "How's Inaho doing?"

"Fine," Inko said. "Same Inaho as usual, always making direct statements without thinking twice about them."

"And why isn't he here?"

"Oh, I told him that you were going to be around, but he just frowned and focused on his eyepatch thingy. Did you know about the eyepatch thingy? It's this—"

"I know. Magbaredge told me on the phone last week, after probing me for five minutes about other people tracing our call."

Yuki shivered.

Rayet passed out and fell on Inko's shoulder, letting out a trail of drool on her friend's shirt. "Whatever. It's finally nice to talk to someone not crazy for once. It feels like I've been stuck in an asylum for the past two years."

Yuki frowned at the statement, but then remembered the context and just shrugged it off.

"So will you be back with us for the whole series—"

"No, don't tell me you have the TV show theo—"

"Of battles?"

"You could've worded that better."

"And you could've died if we weren't here."

"Just let me see my brother."

Inko's muscles tensed. "Uh, after I told you were here, he said he didn't want to see you until he was ready."

"And he'll be ready in how many minutes?"

"Maybe five."

"Five?"

"Weeks. Depends on if he's still talking about the Princess and the blonde kid or not. And anytime I ask him, he keeps saying I ask stupid questions. I don't ask stupid questions, right?"

x x x

"So if black people went to Mars during the first expedition," Dr. Stiles said. "And they stayed there, would they be black Martians? Like are the white Martians okay with the black Martians, or do they hate them just as much as they hate Earthling black people?"

Marito stared at the good doctor with a cold, eyeliner-drenched, gaze. "The fuck are you talking about? I came here again because the—"

"The metafictional contractions are getting wider. I know. But talking about something more pleasant relaxes the mind, and I chose theoretical racism to relax you."

"I'm not in the mood for imaginary black people! I need to know if what I used to consider real is real or not."

Dr. Stiles was rolling a ball of spit in his mouth. "Well, I could give you some electroshock therapy to boost your conscious."

"We still do that?"

"Yeah, for old people and fading celebrities. I could also give you a lobotomy."

"Listen, I don't—"

"Or leeches. I have some fresh leeches in my fridge."

Marito grunted and looked down; feeling like the doctor was doing nothing but poking him at this point.

"Or could I give you the best medicine to every solution."

"Dr. Stiles, I don't want any medieval shit you're going to pull—"

"Beer."

"Beer?"

"Or Zima if you can't handle the real thing."

Marito squinted his eyes. "Stiles, you're a doctor, right? I need a better cure than booze, you know?"

"But there isn't a better cure."

Dr. Stiles pulled out a bottle with the label ripped off from his shirt.

"Seriously, doc. I don't want beer. The captain gave me beer, and it made things worse. Also, what brand is that?"

"Tranquilizer Light."

Dr. Stiles popped the bottle and shoved it into Marito's mouth. They both fell over as Marito tried to push Stiles away. He tried to slap him off, but the motions just came off like a penguin's flippers swabbing a fish. He tried to close his mouth, but years of not shutting up about John Humeray made his lips as firm as wet toast. All he could do was flail about when Dr. Stiles flushed the concoction down his gizzard.

"The Magbaredges send their regards!" Dr. Stiles said directly into Marito's ear. Of course, the level of inebriation will make sure that Marito won't recognize that line, or the past two minutes before this, but it's the thought that counts behind the one-liner.

Not realizing this, Dr. Stiles propped Marito back on the chair and made him pose as if he were still awake. The doctor sat back, hiding the bottle in his shirt again, and continued the conversation as if nothing happened.

"So anyway, if Mars had their own black people, could there have been a Martian Gary Coleman? Did the Norman Lear era of television ever make its way to black audiences on Mars? Like could they appreciate Good Times, or did they need a Martian Florida? The possibilities are just—"

x x x

"So why couldn't he kidnap the enemy combatants as prisoners of war?"

"We could've ransomed them to the Earth forces for money."

"Money that we need."

"And go to Trident Base with only himself? What if he died?"

"Motherfucker trying to bring shame to the Saazbaum blood bond."

"Is he a Count or not?"

"Slaine's so not fresh that he's not fit to suck my nuts."

"How dare he pilot a Kataphrakt that's not confined to only one specialty?"

"Are Harklight and Slaine fucking yet?"

"What's Lemrina's deal? Is she crippled or are her legs just really weak?"

"I heard Slaine laid an egg as big as his head once."

"When chickens stop laying eggs, do they call it henopause?"

All of these jeers echoed through the hangar bay when Slaine returned to Marineros. He expected to be congratulated, or at least for everyone to salute him. Don't completed missions get some kind of applause? Maybe Count Barry would have clapped if he didn't have his hands in another man's pants. He had his left hand up Count Mary's pocket because they both shared the same wallet and keys, and Count Barry didn't want to be left outside his quarters for the night like the last few days. Instead of any appreciation from him or anyone, it was just Harklight hovering above Slaine as he usually did. He would probably hug Slaine every time he came back if not for Harklight's apparent belief in the friend zone shielding Slaine from proper physical contact.

Even despite this, Count Mary was cross. So what if everyone had either apathy or scorn for this Slaine? That was still attention, attention that belonged to Mary! Everyone will remember Slaine as that one dumb kid who managed to get lucky and run the Martian empire, while Mary will be remembered for things his dad did. How can Martian culture do that to a pureblooded Martian?

Unknown to Count Mary, Slaine was going through the shakes. He could take the jacket off now, but the voice still lingered in his head. It made him do things that he didn't want to do. They weren't bad things. They were just things executed to annoy Slaine the most. Maybe he shouldn't have made a deal with the Saazbiote. But the Saazbiote gave Slaine the good advice to put a sock in his pants to make people think he's a shower rather than a grower, and that might have been worth the demonic possession.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Bickering lovers can be both entertaining and alienating, depending largely on where you stand with the two people tearing apart their red string of fate over a further string of arguments. If you love them, it can be heartbreaking to see two close friends turn sour toward each other because of something so trivial. If you hate them, then let the sparks fly. Whoever loses, the audiences wins. It's the achievement of any upstart romcom writer looking to get some conflict from an inability to see a romance from more than one angle. The topic that ruins said relationships doesn't even need to be a grounded factor, or even something people can relate to, it can be something that only sprites could dream of.

"Fuck Slaine," Mary said.

"Yeah, I'm sure you would if you took me out of the picture," Barry said.

Count Barry and Count Mary have discovered a rock in their relationship, an egg-shaped rock. No matter how much Barry tried to get Mary to focus on him instead, his hair-twirling lover would always prefer the contact of that boy to some of Barry's bare body.

The lapse in communication got so bad; Barry opted to speak to Mary on different ships rather than in-person. They decided to speak to each other on their respective ship's bridge, like they were captains going on a seven-year diplomatic mission that involves nothing but technobabble and boorish teen geniuses. Maybe Barry could repair their relationship if he hired a gimp with ridges on his forehead.

Barry gulped. "All right, can we stop talking about Slaine for once? Mazuurek's been captured, and it's bad news for the rest of us if they sniff out who led him."

"But that's the point. Slaine probably set up Mazuurek up to get caught."

"How?"

"I don't know, I just have this gut feeling. I can feel Slaine reaching in my stomach, like he's penetrating me with that phallic guilt of his."

"Mary, we need to focus on why they captured Mazuurek instead on whether or not Slaine's involved. All the previous times they faced Counts, the Earthlings murdered them. Why did they capture him?"

"Maybe they'll behead him."

"Too soon, Mary."

Mary pulled a chip out of his hair, and promptly swallowed it. "It's not like they have any other reason to use Mazuurek. Like what will they get out of him? Are they opting for some kind of negotiation, where they'll hand over the Count if we give them something, like that traitor Slaine?!"

"Why would they want Slaine?"

"Because he's an Earthling, and 'cause Earthies belong together."

"You're thinking irrationally."

"Rationality is an Earthling form of philosophy, and I won't have you spouting that ethnic talk in front of me."

"Just because dad said those things doesn't mean you have to."

"I do have to, because someone has to keep dad's memories alive. Unlike you. One of the guards said you were drinking bottled water from Earth instead of the freshly fracked tap water here in our Martian reservoirs."

"But Martian water is just ninety-nine percent fluoride."

"To make sure our Martian teeth stay squeaky-clean, Barry! We can't let the struggle fade just because you want to taste actual water for once. You know how much Earthling water I've drunk in the past five years? None. And I have the furiously yellow urine to prove that."

"You say that like you don't remember our one experiment. I couldn't get the stains out thanks to you."

"And you're welcome. Now you can bring guests to your bed and introduce it like a tourist attraction."

"Like my guests want to see a piss-soaked bed?"

"Tons of people go to president's houses to see their piss-soaked beds, why can't they go see ours? And my piss is nobler than any president's piss, so the aura coming out of my pee will probably make people nobler by default. When they sense that tangy stench going through their noses, they'll recognize it as the sign of a upper-class man enriching them with the privilege of piss."

"If you want that so much, then piss in your own bed."

"I do! I do and I like it, damn it!"

"Count," the ensign next to Mary said, trying to maintain ship temperatures and failing thanks to his superior's talk making him fumble on the controls. "Maybe you should listen to Master Barry instead of talking about your urine."

"Fuck you, commoner. Only nobles like myself can truly treasure the triumph of tasting your own taint juice."

The ensign shivered at imagining the thought.

"Only the richest lovers can understand the pain I suffer, and I should slap right now for interfering with my healing."

"Okay," Barry said, after sighing throughout Mary's attempts to scold his shipmate. "I'll give you a compromise."

"A compromise or a cum-promise?"

"Hey, not in front of the ensigns. They're still minors. I don't want them thinking about dirty things in case we get shot, and their last thoughts will be about your sperm."

"And why wouldn't I want them thinking of my sperm? It's like lying back and thinking of Martian England."

"…Martian England's not even a real country."

"It will be! It will be when I become the founder in a couple years, and I'll get rights to all of the Martian United Kingdom merchandise, and you won't get any of that sweet MUK if you talk back again. Count's honor."

"Okay, back to the compromise. If you hate Slaine so much, how about you go to him directly instead of shittalking about him to me?"

"But I can do that anytime, why would I—"

"But with a plan, Mary." Barry put a firm emphasis on 'plan'. "Strike him where he's the most vulnerable."

"His crotch?"

"His woman."

"Which woman?"

"The princess!"

"Oh yeah, her. Wait, Slaine likes women?"

Barry grimaced. "Yeah, sorry if you thought he was available. Now I'm telling you to us the princess to strike Slaine when he's the least ready. Use her to your advantage."

"Like throw her out of the wheelchair and kill her in front of Slaine?"

"No, that's going to get us killed by Ray. I mean something more covert."

"Like killing her slowly?"

"Okay, we'll practice for a few more hours."

The entire crew from both ships groaned in unison.

x x x

Meanwhile at the handy-dandy Deucalion, Lieutenant Mizusaki gave the day's state of affairs to Magbaredge, which mainly consisted of telling her to wipe twice before flushing. But on this day, Mizusaki had a complaint to her captain.

"Captain, there's a guy in my room, and he won't let me in."

"Oh," Magbaredge said. "It's probably the prisoner."

"Wait, prisoner?"

"Yeah, Count Mazuurek. The boyishly handsome Martian that we captured in yesterday's fight."

"We didn't kill him?"

"No."

"But we've killed all of the other Counts we've faced. Why didn't we kill this guy?"

"Because that would be rude, Mizusaki. You shouldn't kill one hundred people without at least sparing one, because that's the basic humanitarian way."

"Why didn't we just try not to kill all of the previous Counts we faced then? I'm pretty sure keeping them as prisoners would have been useful for bargaining with Vers."

Magbaredge rolled her eyes. "Because they would have been hard to negotiate with."

"And this guy is?"

"Yeah. Your point being?"

Mizusaki's nostrils flared. "Well you didn't have to give him my room. I was going to paint the rust over today."

"Every soldier has to make a sacrifice."

"Yeah, because you haven't taken enough from me."

"Oh, chillax, my N-word. I've finally given you a golden ticket."

Mizusaki's right foot kept tapping due to a combination of anxiety and wanting to kick her captain right in the face. "Okay, I'll bite. What golden ticket?"

"You have a broken man in your room, meaning you can finally get your wish for a date."

"Captain, I don't want a date."

"But you keep suggesting through your body language. I can tell when a young lass is in heat, especially when they're in denial of their true lust towards their leader."

"Darzana, seriously. I don't want to sleep with you."

"That's just military protocol and patriarchal values telling you that. Maybe relaxing with this nice Martian rent boy will help relax your muscles and guide you on your way to choosing me!"

"Darzana—"

"See, it's working when you're using my real name and not my slave one."

"I don't want to have sex with anyone. I keep telling you that in every way possible, but you won't listen."

"Why do you abuse your clitoris so much instead of let it go on a fun run once in a while? I give you manmeat, and you refuse. What else am I supposed to do? Give you Nina? Nina's mine."

"I can't even believe we're having this conversation when we still have Trident Base's destruction to worry about, Captain. We still haven't even calculated the exact casualties thanks to the troops you stole and abandoned. Can't you focus on that instead of my sex life for once?"

"Because Trident Base is just like your sex life. Non-existent."

Mizusaki stormed off the bridge, slamming the door shut despite it being one of the slidy space doors that don't have handles. For one moment, Magbaredge felt concerned. She wanted to give her crewmember a gift, and she rejected it. What does that say about her skills as a matchmaker when the promise of a free sex slave is rejected without a moment of consideration? Now the captain will have to resort to her second idea and send the Count to Ensign Kaizuka instead. Maybe he'll appreciate the gift more.

x x x

Ensign Kaizuka was busy having the one distinguishing feature of his face examined by the local optometrist/pharmacist/veterinarian Dr. Stiles. He took some quick snapshots of the eye, scanned Inaho's skull with an experimental X-ray that had a 95% chance of giving the young man a tumor, and licked it to make sure it wasn't poisonous.

Dr. Stiles sat down and pat his lap a few times. "Okay, Inaho. Even by the loose standards of cybernetic technology, I'm not sure how your eye can function."

Inaho stood and looked down at the doctor. "I customized it myself and expanded the area and memory space considerably."

"Yeah, I could see that. What I can't see is why you would perform eye surgery on yourself. Like, I'm not the best doctor, but even I have standards on what people should do to their own bodies, you know?"

"Should I not improve my own body?"

"Well, it's always good to make some gains, but fucking up your own eye like that might cause some setbacks later in your life. And what if you slip when working on your eye and touch your brain? You don't want to wake up stupid."

"I do not see how that scenario could work under my current conditions."

"It could."

"I still do not see—"

Dr. Stiles wiped the sweat off his forehead. "What I'm saying is, get an expert on robot eyes if you really want to improve your abilities."

"But there are no experts except me."

The medical bay door opened, and Yuki appeared.

"Oh, thank God, someone to take this kid from me. No offense."

Inaho turned to Yuki, then turned to Dr. Stiles, his eye glowing red when making visual contact with both people.

"Has he been doing the red eye thing for a while?" Yuki asked.

"Yeah, I know. It's creepy."

"Dude, don't say that in front of my brother."

"No, it's okay. He doesn't really react to that. Or anything, for that matter. I tickled his armpits, and he just told me to stop it. I also showed him some porn, of all varieties, even the porn made specifically for asexuals, and he just went 'beep' after the end of every video. Unless they were blonde, then he smiled a little."

"You showed him porn?"

"Yeah, anyway, bye-bye. Sorry I couldn't give you two lollipops or anything."

Yuki and Inaho left the medical bay and went to the halls, not O-shaped like the swanky ones in Marineros, but dingy like a John Schlesinger movie.

"Okay, Inaho. We have to talk."

"Talk about what, big sister?"

"About being an ace pilot, and the whole charging into every mission and killing people thing."

"Yes, I do these tasks well."

"I know, but why are you still doing this?"

"Because if I am not around, the Deucalion will crash and all of my friends will die."

"No, not that. I know you love being a pilot, and good for you for saving people, but why are you stuck on Magbaredge's ship when you could be working for the elite forces? You could help us attack Mars directly instead of fighting some flunky Counts every week. With that brain of yours, you could be a Major, or maybe an Admiral if you're that dedicated. Challenge yourself."

"I cannot."

"Why? If you get a ton of promotions, you could get a cushy desk job without needing to worry about risking your life—"

"I cannot enjoy that monotony until I have rescued her. And him."

"Oh yeah, the ass princess. And who's him?"

"I will explain later."

"But regarding the princess, Inaho, you can't save her. She's now on her table ranting about blue skies like she's a spacey Tokyo Rose. She's beyond saving."

"That is not the princess."

"What?"

"She is a decoy. She is a fake. She is someone used to perpetuate the Martian war while the real princess is in hiding."

"How did you figure that out?"

"Science."

Yuki grumbled. "Okay, if any of what you said was true, what makes you think you can save her when you're stuck here in the Deucalion?"

"Because Captain Magbaredge shares my drive for the war, and no other leader can do that. Captain Magbaredge said I can get my own country if her plan works."

"Captain Magbaredge is also fucking crazy and will kill you if you got in her way."

The phone within Inaho's neural link called. Ever since the surgeries, he found the need to carry a phone pointless, so he implanted one in his head for easy access.

"Hey Inaho!" said the caller. "Want a free slave?"

x x x

"Want a free slave?" Magbaredge asked, at the Deucalion hangar bay. "He's a little prissy, but I'm sure he'll do when you still try to find that chicken-boy of yours. Where is he? Oh, where Mizusaki's place is. Okay, toodles!"

The captain turned off her phone, slid it down her pants, and went back to why she was in the hangar bay in the first place. Marito stood by the wall, left eye twitching and various layers of grime covering his mouth.

"What did you do to me?" he asked. "My head feels like there's a clock inside."

"Oh, just thank the good Dr. Stiles for that concoction. I asked for a good mind-control serum, and he supplied with no cost.

"Mind control?"

"Yeah, mind control. I control your mind. Mind controlled by me. You know the deal."

"I already told you. I'm sorry. About him—"

Magbaredge paused to wonder who Marito was talking about before continuing. "No, I got past that ages ago. I just wanted a mind slave, and you were the closest that came to mind."

"What?"

"Yeah, hope you don't mind."

"Don't mind?"

"Good to hear that, Murray Toe! Good to hear that you've accepted being a born-again in my new nation."

The left side of Marito's head throbbed, like someone slammed his temple and expected him to still stand from the ordeal. "New nation? What?"

"Yeah, you see, I've decided that to further my legitimacy as a future ruler of all worlds, I got Nina to write some paperwork claiming the Deucalion as its own nation. And since you've been born again on this ship, you are the first natural-born Deucalionian of sorts. Congratulations!"

Marito would have reacted, but moving his face to form the appropriate emotion at the moment felt like doing chaos theory calculus with one arm.

"Good? Good! Let the baptizing begin!"

x x x

Count Mazuurek mumbled. He went from a landing castle to a brig no sane person could see as hospitable. Why did they have to throw him here instead of a normal prison with bars that didn't have nails stuck on them? At the very least, they could have sent a better host.

"You do not make the noises that he made," Inaho said. "Should I try again?"

"No!" Mazuurek said, rubbing his sore bottom. "No more cavity searches. Your hand felt cold inside me anyway."

"You do not react the way he did."

"Who's 'he'? God, don't tell me you do this to every prisoner you get."

"Your prostate did not have his texture. His was smooth and soft."

"No, seriously. Who's 'he'? Why am I here? What do you want with me? Answer some questions, kid."

Inaho managed to frown. His face lost that stoic composure and became something you could see on a lost boy looking for his favorite doll. "You are not Slaine Troyard. You could never be Slaine Troyard."

"I know that, dumbass. Now why did they send you instead of someone who can talk like a normal guy? I thought this base had veteran soldiers?"

"I came here out of my own accord."

"You went here by yourself?"

"Yes."

"So they, the Earth forces, they didn't order the cavity search?"

"Correct."

"It was just you deciding to do that."

"Yes."

"And why did you feel the need to almost tear my ass apart?"

"Because I wanted to."

"My ass has stretch marks right now, and you say it's because you wanted to."

"Yes."

Mazuurek sat dumbfounded at how matter-of-fact Inaho was to humiliate the Count like that. What kind of boy did rectal examinations for fun?

"And now I feel a lump inside my butt. It feels like the worst constipation, and it's thanks to you! I thought you Earthlings understood the customs of war."

"I do understand the basics of the Geneva Convention. I just choose to ignore them."

"So why didn't you kill me like the rest of the Count you've faced? Why isn't my body a pile of burger meat like Femianne's or Yacoym's?"

"Because that would be a waste of good resources such as classified knowledge. And ass. Mostly ass."

Mazuurek winced at the mention of his buttocks. "So that's it? You kept me so I could be your slave? You know how outdated this all sounds, right, where the good soldiers get slaves as payment?"

"You refer to this as outdated? How ironic."

"Hey, Martians may come off as slow, but not like this."

"You murdered countless millions after a false assassination attempt on the Princess was reported."

"Which I was against but overruled when Cruhteo got his way. You think we were all for throwing landing castles on Earth? Some of us had to because of orders, or piety.

"You just followed orders?"

"Not like that. Look, they would have stripped me of my nobility if I refused. I had to play their part so I could make sure my family could still be highborn. You had to do some bad things to make sure your family could get fed, right?"

"No. Any action I have committed that can be perceived as a crime was out of my own accord."

Mazuurek bit his lips at the failure to find something in common with Inaho. "Okay, I know you might see us as monsters, I know some of my friends probably killed some of your friends, but that doesn't mean you're in the right either. Instead of trying to rise up above bloodshed, you're just digging further down to see if you can one-up us in atrocities. Maybe the Emperor was right about you and your kind being pigs."

"I like pigs."

"…Well good for you, but—"

"The Princess taught me all about them when she was friends with me."

"You being friends with the Princess? God knows how much you took advantage of her like you're doing to me."

"I did not exploit her. I only wished to cooperate."

"Oh sure, you got her consent. That's rich."

"I see from your tone that you care about the Princess."

"And I see from your tone that your parents probably plucked their hair out trying to communicate with you."

Inaho ignored that slight. "Your tone suggests loyalty to the Princess, loyalty that few other Counts have displayed. You are now a prime target again."

"A prime target?"

"For interrogation."

Mazuurek wondered if he would use gloves this time.

x x x

It was like the gloves used at the military cafeteria, serving all sorts of food groups like soy and soy and soy-lite. Just stir some ketchup into the soy batter, and it suddenly tastes like something made for five minutes than two. You could also add some salt and water to get the accurate gruel texture that was thought too expensive to capture for military nutrition. On the plus side, someone can soil the food mixture, and no one would notice thanks to how offensively bland the food could be. If anything, that person would be doing the service for finally adding some protein into their diets.

Nonetheless, Inko, Nina, and Rayet ate this delectable slop together at their usual table. Well, Inko and Nina were.

Inko looked at Rayet and her empty tray with worry. "Rayet, don't you want to eat your soy-lite with soy-cheese like the rest of us?"

"Didn't we just eat caviar a few weeks ago?" Rayet asked. "Why don't we eat more of that?"

"Because Captain's orders."

"Fuck the Captain. Besides, I'm hungover. I can't eat food without throwing it back up."

"But you need to eat, Rayet. If you don't, the weight from your boobs will grow smaller."

"When the hell did you care about breast size, Ink?"

"Since the Captain probed her head," Nina said.

"But don't you want to look good for the boys?" Inko asked, with a dead-eyed stare Inaho would envy.

"She'll recover from this in a few hours. Trust me."

Rayet took a moment to remember who Nina was before replying. "Yeah, sure she will."

"But Rayet-chan," Inko said. "If you do not eat, you will become ugly and unattractive to your local senpais."

"Ink, I don't want to eat. It's okay."

"But do you not always eat?"

"Hey, remember when I used to be a low-class Martian, right? Didn't have much to eat as a kid."

"So anorexia is the best way to get that slim figure of yours."

"Just shut up until you talk normal, Ink."

"But the boys. The boys and their luscious babymakers."

Rayet turned her eyes to Nina. "Okay, pig-tail girl, why did the Captain probe Ink?"

"Everyone was getting annoyed about Inko's death wish, so I proposed that we drugged Inko with happy pills to make her think of something else. For once, Captain Magbaredge was proud of me."

Rayet was getting tired of this talk, just nothing but weight issues, breast sizes, and brainwashing. Was this all they could talk about before the next battle would happen? What happened to that mindfulness lecture she gave to Inko? Even if it was just a small quibble, Rayet wished for some more meaningful conversation, the kind that wouldn't piss off a women's studies professor.

And speaking of failures in women's studies, Mizusaki saw them and joined their table. She looked tired. "Okay, I just walked into my room and found Inaho fisting the prisoner. What's going on?"

Jackpot, Rayet thought. "Oh, what a surprise. I also have business with Inaho and… whomever we imprisoned. I might be back in a few minutes. Don't call me. Ever."

Rayet left the table, almost sitting on Inko to get out, and ran away without looking back. Hallelujah.

x x x

"Did you know that the Princess Asseylum now is an impostor?"

"No, and I don't believe that."

"Where is the real Princess Asseylum?"

"Once again, I don't believe that."

"Why is the fake Princess Asseylum in a wheelchair?"

"Because you shot her, you insane fuck."

"How can I be insane when it is you who is in denial of the truth?"

"Dude, some girls just change their minds. One day, they'll like you. The next, they want nothing to do with you. That's how life works. Don't make some conspiracy theory because you can't accept that."

"Do you want some cream for your bottom?"

"Yes, please."

"I do not have any."

"Then why did you even ask?"

"Because it amused me."

"Okay, just get me another soldier to see me. A soldier who's not you, or anything like you."

"…did you know that the Princess Asseylum now is an impostor?"

Mazuurek pulled his hair at the thirty-eighth time he asked this question.

x x x

"This is the emu, whose neck is long and slender. This is the penguin, who can't fly because Jesus hates them."

Slaine had been spending the past three hours lecturing Eddelrittuo on the meaning behind the avian kind. It was neat… for him. For Eddelrittuo, it was a fucking slog. Worse, they were speaking at Asseylum's stasis tube, so there was little room for the girl to move. Standing near a cryogenics subject was like being near an open fridge, and Eddelrittuo had no foresight to wear something warmer. She was huddled into a small corner whilst Slaine gave her bird facts she could have checked on a phone.

"Please," she said. "Can I just go back to the cave Lemrina made for me?"

"No! I need to tell you about the kiwi, and why they can't fly because they're too full of themselves."

"Why are we still doing this? We are you even telling me about birds in the first place? I just want to go home."

"Hush. I need to tell you about the pigeon, and how common they used to be on the streets of America."

"I know what pigeons are. I've seen pigeons with my own eyes. I don't need to hear anything more."

"But what about the meaning behind the pigeon?"

"Slaine, what has gotten you into this in the first place?"

Slaine couldn't answer this, because even he didn't know. It was the Saazbiote pulsating this sudden bird knowledge into him, sending the brief remarks about birds through his spinal cord and directly into his frontal lobe. It was like a river streaming into a dam, and each wave wearing down the structure until it became mere fragments. Such a shame for anything built to stand with composure getting wrecked by natural forces. Still, it's better than being forever clogged like Magbaredge's bowels.

"Please, I haven't even eaten—"

"You will stay until I have described every single bird in existence!"

"I know about chickens!"

Slaine's pupils glowed red. "I have not given you knowledge of that bird yet, little girl! I will give you the bird when the time is nigh!"

Eddelrittuo whimpered. She almost missed being forced in hiding with the Earthlings.

x x x

"Did you know that Saazbaum shot Asseylum in front of me?"

Count Mazuurek didn't answer, because hearing Inaho talk for several hours had rendered anything he said into white noise. After the first few hundreds of times of being asked what happened to Princess Asseylum, being able to come up with something original is lost by one's hubris deteriorating. It was like water dripping on your face indefinitely, where you're begging for the torrent to just fall down already. Mazuurek had wondered what he'd done to deserve this. He didn't kill anybody, so why he is he getting a worse punishment than some of his contemporaries?

Thank God he heard someone enter the prison, someone who could provide a different voice. It didn't matter if they sounded like a banshee to Mazuurek. Any voice would be preferable than Inaho's right now.

"Hey, Slapaho!" the voice said. "I heard you were fisting a guy, and I want to watch."

Inaho turned his attention to the visitor. "Hello, Rayet."

Rayet appeared within Mazuurek's line-of-sight, whilst covered by steel bars. Also, her clothes didn't help him stop thinking of women-in-prison comparisons. "So this is the guy. Sucks that you're done tearing up his ass."

Mazuurek tried his best to laugh after the amount of agony Inaho had thrown at him. "I'd rather him do that instead of the frequently asked questions. He's mentioned 'Saazbaum' and 'Asseylum' so many times that I've almost forgotten what those names mean."

"Wait, Saazbaum? You mean Count Saazbaum?"

"Who else? What's he got to do with you?"

"Oh, nothing much, just forced my dad to do a mission and then tricked him into his own death. The usual."

"So that means you're a Martian? Finally, someone normal to talk to."

"Calling me Martian is like calling a transwoman a guy. I'm trying to cut those ties, and hearing you talk isn't helping."

"Well, uh, sorry for your loss anyway."

"Eh, don't mind. I already went through angsting on that a year ago, so I don't need to go over that again. Having a dead dad sucks, but moping about it won't bring him back."

"Hmm. You would think a Martian would have a hard time controlling their emotions in an Earth ship."

"Hey, I told you I don't need to retread that ground. What's done is done. And I'm probably the least alien out of this entire ship anyway."

"Well at least there's someone well-adjusted here, unlike him."

Mazuurek's eyes glared directly into Inaho's face, not that he noticed. Rayet, alson ignoring Mazuurek's compliment, went to Inaho and whispered, "Hey, I have an idea."

"What is it?"

Rayet turned to make sure Mazuurek wasn't listening. "We should do a heist."

"Why a heist?"

"Because I'm bored as fuck, and Ink's too drugged-up to do anything fun with me. My idea is that we take Mazuurek and throw him back into his Kataphrakt."

"Why would we do that?"

"Because when Mazuurek goes back to the rest of the Martians, he'll bring someone along with him. Something that you will plant without his knowledge. See what I'm getting?"

And for a moment, Inaho's lips curled into a 'u' shape. The mouth muscles were an unfamiliar subject to him, and weeks of practicing haven't helped him adjust to the idea of naturally smiling.

x x x

Ring, ring, ring.

"Hey," Count Mary said on the bridge phone. "I wanna speak to Princess Asseylum right now, unless she's too busy fertilizing her garden. With her special seed."

"What are you talking about? Your Princess is right here, silly."

The video connection cleared up to reveal Harklight in a wig, though it was more of a mop than anything meant to cover someone's head.

"It is I, Princess Lem—Asseylum. Are you calling because you want the holy booty call from your lordship?"

Count Mary looked incredulous. "You know dressing like a lady's not going to turn me on, Mr. Slaine's slave. Now where's the Princess?"

"She's busy doing princess things, like putting on dresses and dancing."

"While in a wheelchair?"

"Wheelchair dancing. It's like spinning with style. Have you seen a wheelchair waltz? It's effing beautiful—"

"Seriously, where's the Princess?"

"I told you. She's dancing."

"And I call bullshit on that. Stop giving me misleading information. Stop giving me things that Slaine would give, you Slainesayer!"

"At least call me by my name, Count."

"Why? You're just a lowly lieutenant. You could die right now, and someone would take your place just like that. What have you even done that some loyal paperboy can't do instead? If I can't remember the names of every one who died for the cause, then why should I remember yours?"

"…because 'Harklight' sounds cool?"

"Allow me to save face," Lemrina said behind Harklight. Masquerading as her sister, she steered to the side of Count Mary's view, like a roaming cow that didn't know how to avoid a speeding car. "What do you want from me, Count?"

Count Mary curled the hair hanging near his eyes. "Oh, Princess. What I want is an in-person chat with you."

"You mean a booty call?"

"Oh God, no. I wouldn't take advantage of a disabled girl. That would be so lame of me. So S'lame of me."

Lemrina cringed.

"I need to talk to you face to face because of some concerns I have with… him. Where is he anyway? Why is he letting his underling take the calls for him?"

"I'm an effin' lieutenant!" Harklight said.

Count Mary tied one of his hair curls into a knot. "An underling nonetheless. And you're an underling to Slaine, so that means you're an under-underling. A sub-subhuman. How does that feel?"

"Please stop," the Princess said. "I know abusing Harklight can be fun, but wouldn't it be more fun to do it when he's in front of you, with all of those three-dimensional features on a one-dimensional man? And when he's done talking to my dwarf, he'll be ready for your mockery as well. Won't that be fun?"

"Oh yes, I agree. I'll be right away Princess. Off to save you from being the caged bird that sings."

"What?"

"Oh, I was trying to make a book reference."

"It sounded stupid."

"It was supposed to sound smart!"

"How does mentioning a book's title make you sound smart?"

"It just does!"

"Count Mary, just end the call. Or you'll start thinking that running off the names of Philip K Dick novels will make your arguments sounder."

x x x

"Magbaredge," Mizusaki said. "Mazuurek managed to break out."

"Mmmmmmmmm," Magbaredge said, her mouth moistening.

Count Mazuurek was being guided—at gunpoint, of course—by Rayet out of the brig and into the docks. Even if the trigger was jabbed into his back, and there's any chance it will fire and completely mangle his spine, the physical contact was the most comfort he felt in over a day. He also treasured the chance to stretch his legs out without a sociopathic Japanese boy spreading them for him.

"So why do you keep that boy on your ship?" he asked Rayet. "He might be a good sniper for all I know, but the fucker's too crazy to let near humankind."

"I stand by the belief that having him on our team is preferable than having him against us," Rayet said. "It's like how supervillain teams always let the crazy guy in. They don't like him, but they have to let him in to make sure they can keep an eye on the bastard."

They kept trudging through the storage containers. The floor was quite sticky, which seemed odd given the lack of any fauna to create that texture. Maybe a soldier was having some fun outside before Rayet and Mazuurek came. That usually gets the floor so wet not even the janitor can repair the mental scars.

"So if it means anything, outside of him, you guys seem all right from what I can tell."

Rayet giggled while still clutching the gun. "Yeah, if only you had more time to see the rest of the people on the ship."

"They can't be all bad compared to the jailor."

"Try saying that again when you work on the ship. Even now, I still can't believe some general's letting us fly without getting sanctioned or whatever they do."

"But at least you don't have the Counts bickering about something chafing their tights at the moment."

"And at least you don't have the Counts trying to kill you every week."

"Yeah, yeah, fuck the Counts. Who thought having a clan-based government would work in the first place?"

"Emperor Ray?"

"Yeah, him."

"Why hasn't he stopped the war, since, you know, his granddaughter's still alive?"

"Martian madness. And do you expect anyone to listen if he said anything?"

"Good point. Also, you can unclench your back a little. It's not like I'm going to shoot you."

"I'm just trying to be safe."

"Like this isn't even a real gun. I got it from a dollar store. I think it used to shoot bubbles, but I don't have any bubble mix to see if it still works."

"Whatever. I'm sure he's probably hired a sniper to kill both of us if we don't obey. Besides, I like talking to you. Better than talking to Count Mary any day—"

A car swerved by their path, just missing them by a mere inch. It had the color of a typical army truck with the design of a middle-aged man's first choice for an automobile. Mazuurek still held his guard, knowing that Inaho could have sent a clown car and it would have been just as threatening.

The window opened to reveal the man himself. He said, "Get in."

Mazuurek and Rayet entered the car, unused to the firm metal seats, and let Inaho drive them off.

"This isn't a regulation car," Rayet said. "Where did you get this?"

"The Captain gave it to me for being a good boy."

"And you couldn't get decent seats?"

"I specifically asked for the custom seating."

"Why?"

"To annoy my passengers."

"Now serious question," Mazuurek said. "Where are you sending us?"

"To your Kataphrakt."

"Okay, why?"

"Because I intend you to go back to Marineros and locate the real Princess for me."

Mazuurek thought about this for a few seconds. "What makes you think I'll do this? What makes you think I'll do anything you ask me to do?"

"Because I have stuffed a bomb up your butt."

Mazuurek remembered the lump he felt in his innards. He didn't want to remember that, let alone with this context.

"The bomb will explode in a few days unless I give you codes to delay the detonation, codes I will only give you in exchange for information on the Princess."

"Wait, you said 'delay' instead of 'stop'."

"Yes."

"So it'll blow up anyway."

"Yes."

"Then why should I help you?"

"Because I know you will do anything for a few extra days of life."

Mazuurek grumbled, caught in a lose-lose situation between the Counts and Inaho.

"Maybe if you give me the information faster, I will deactivate the bomb."

"You won't though, right?"

"Maybe I will not."

"Just quit fucking with me, all right? I've already suffered enough because of you, and I just want to fucking leave. I might go to a Martian proctologist to get this out—"

"Any attempt to remove the bomb will result in immediate detonation."

"Damn it. What if I poop it out by accident?"

"It will detonate."

"So I can't take dumps anymore."

"You can take the trickly dumps people get after not eating enough bananas," Rayet said. "It's a bitch, but it's something."

"Maybe I should take the bomb option."

"If you die this way," Inaho said. "The Martian aristocrats will see you as the man who died from a butt bomb. Do you want to be that man?"

Mazuurek looked around the car, wondering how fucked he was in now. Rayet felt some pity for him, but the idea of dying from a buttblast tickled her inner lowbrow enough to override that sympathy.

"We have arrived at your destination," Inaho said, the windows showing a very grimy view of Mazuurek's Kataphrakt, and his landing castle. It was so nice of the UFE to place his Kataphrakt and his castle so close to each other. "I hope that you share news of my hospitality to your friends."

"If that's your way of saying 'fuck off', the feeling's mutual."

"Hope we see you again," Rayet said. "Though it'll probably be at the end of a gun barrel."

Mazuurek opened the door and quickly left, not caring if this would just be another trap meant to further humiliate him.

"Wait," Rayet said. "I forgot his name. What was it?"

"Count Muzak."

"Okay. So what if Magbaredge and company find out we let the prisoner go?"

"It is okay. She will be proud of me when I explain my gambit."

"Yeah, I'm sure she'll treat you like the son she forgot to kill."

"But what will Inko think of this apparent betrayal?"

"Who cares what Ink thinks? It's not like she's watching us through a camera or something."

x x x

Slaine was walking back and forth on the hangar bay. He's hung out here so much that it's become his second home of sorts. The metal floor was his third best friend, and he felt regret every time his third best friend had footprints left on it.

Said friend opened its docks to let two Kataphrakts in, one big and purple, the other slim and red. To Slaine, it must have been like a giant Gengar and Scizor appearing in front of your face, challenging you to a battle when you haven't got anything to stand against them. You know, like the tier-obsessed twentysomethings who challenge small children.

Harklight and Lemrina—both dressed like Asseylum just to make sure Count Mary won't notice—floated over to Slaine as he stood waiting for the Kataphrakts to open their cockpits. Maybe they would go faster if he were on his knees. They soon opened, allowing Slaine no time to stretch his already sore legs, and knelt on top of their robots like they were parrots on a Persian man's shoulder. Mary curled his hair yet again, while Barry had the I-Don't-Want-To-Be-Here face welded on.

Slaine wondered just what they were doing here, and why the Princess even allowed them here in the first place. They were already planning the one-minute mourning procedural for the assumed-to-be late Count Mazuurek. He didn't need this. He needed Asseylum. Maybe this was just another trial whatever deity existed was offering to him. After the prejudice, the torture, the bloodshed, the spanking, and the possession, he had come to expect such events. If Buddhism were real, Slaine would probably wonder if he twisted someone's knickers too hard in a past life.

Mary stood up, brushing off some dust on his shoulder, and proceeded to shout, "Duel!"

"Duel?" Slaine asked.

"Duel." Barry said, still not wanting any part in this.

"Dual?" Harklight asked.

"No, Duel…" Lemrina said, trying to hide her disappointment with her fake golden locks.

"Duel!" Mary enunciated, pointing his finger at Slaine while fidgeting like he was senile. "Due to duel!"

"Doot Doot Doo?" Slaine asked.

x x x

Next time, the duel.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Orbital Knights, ho!"

In these desperate needs, Slaine called the three Counts who he could depend on, the three Counts we haven't seen much of since probably the first episode. He leaped up the stairs, climbed the elevator levers when the stairs didn't work, then tried the stairs again when Harklight told him the stairs were working fine. Slaine finally made it up to the bridge to activate communications with all of the Counts that he could remember off the top of his head. He summoned Count Orga of the deep-voiced Nakata soundalikes. He called upon Count Sebring of the Pompadours. He also demanded the need for Count Raffia because he needed a woman in his group. He would've called Femianne, but Harklight advised him not to have dead people on his council for fear of looking crazier than he already was. It was better to acquire the soon-to-be-dead Counts.

Slaine went to the podium and pushed the button to activate the bridge relay. Or at least, he attempted to. His thin boy fingers weren't strong enough to replace the strong grip that his adoptive father had. Harklight went up to the podium alongside him and helped, because his fingers could do what Slaine's never could. Perhaps he was plotting something if he knew the controls more than Slaine did, as if he had more than one secret he hid away from his master's ears.

"So do I need a microphone?" Slaine asked.

Harklight grinned at his young lord. "No, just let your vocal cords do the effin' job, Master Slaine."

"So why aren't they joining the call yet? It's still loading."

"Just wait, maybe Count Orga's in the shower."

"Or maybe I caught them when they were sleeping. How do Martians adjust to sleep schedules anyway? I never got that."

"Maybe they don't sleep. Like we got the three Counts who are insomniacs."

"But that means they'll be unhinged and they'll yell at me and they'll make me feel bad and they'll ruin my morale when I'm dueling."

"Master Slaine, it's either getting yelled at or facing Mary's death cannons alone."

Slaine sighed. "Okay."

And soon enough, Orga, Raffia, and Sebring joined his call, with Sebring hastily changing his usual kitty avatar with a video of himself.

"Morning, Count Slaine!" they all said in unison.

"I'd like to say that I'm sorry for your loss," Orga said.

"It must be so hard to lose two fathers," Raffia said. "You shouldn't have to be the punch line to every conservative politician's wet dream."

"Is the kitty off the screen?" Sebring asked. "Please tell me it's off."

"It's fine!" Slaine said to all of them, mostly since he couldn't remember who was Sebring and who was Raffia. "It's fine. I'm still grieving for my father's loss, so I'm grateful for your condolences."

Orga raised his head to the screen to see if it was working. "Yes, I know how hard it is to lose a Saazbaum. As you know, I was in heavy debt to him when he was alive. We were at a locker room once, and I saw Trilliam in the nude. It changed my life, and made me change my towel. Unfortunately, I dropped my towel prematurely, so everyone could see my chubby. Trilliam gave me that usual glare he gave to everyone. There's nothing worse than a slant-eyed man looking at your penis like it was freshly fried chicken, ready for the nibbling and the skinning. You ever imagine your penis getting nibbled and skinned, because I never want to relive that experience. I didn't want people to think I was hot for Trilliam, but Saazbaum stepped in, quipping that I was still getting erect over Heaven's Fall. He made an effort to recall the day I got a massive boner when I nuked part of Massachusetts. Even I didn't remember that, but Saazbaum did. Saazbaum was like my Onii-chan, protecting me from those dastardly perverts. Suffice to say, Trilliam and all involved accepted that excuse, and no one ever suspected that I thought he was hot."

Slaine grew tired around Orga's first sentence. "That's… nice. But I wanted to call you three because of my duel with Mary later today."

"Oh yeah," Raffia said. "That. What do you want us to do? Call the duel off? Call a marriage counselor? Our resources are limited when it comes to actions besides invading Earth."

"Yes," Orga said as if he had an epiphany. "We should invade Earth again! In honor of Saazbaum!"

"Hold on," Slaine said. "I thought we were already invading Earth."

"Then let's double-invade Earth. It's not like the invasion going on right now is doing anything."

"But we've conquered major territories."

"Some major territories. Not all of them. That's like saying you adopted some of a cat instead of all of it. Would you feel content in adopting only chunks of cat organs instead of the full animal, my dear Slaine?"

"No."

"Would you like being promised a puppy, but I only gave the head and some of the lung bits? And possibly some fur to hide the pus?"

"No, can we get away from the dead animal alleg—"

"We are discussing serious matters that may possibly end your life, Slaine. If you can't deal with that, then why are you on this podium instead of drinking at the Earthlings-only fountains?"

"Sir, please. Can we just get back to how we can deal with Mary?"

"I know a way to deal with that tawdry clone bitch, and that's by putting you on the frontlines for the next Earth invasion!"

"What?"

"Yeah, I want you to lead the siege. Surge first and surge fast, like you usually do with your lovers of all five genders."

"Five genders?"

"Man, woman, bird, Kataphrakt, and cranberries. And that's only counting the socially accepted genders."

"Okay, can anybody else talk?"

Slaine looked to the right of the screen, seeing that Sebring and Raffia have long since ended their connection. Figures, Slaine thought. At least it saved him the embarrassment of calling him Count Seabreeze.

"Now do we have a deal or what?" Orga asked.

"But what about Mary?"

"Oh, you'll have to deal with that on your own. I believe in you, Slaine. I believe you like I believe my own sexuality."

"Not even one reinforcement?"

"No. By the by, I loved what you did to Trident Base. I'm sure you came up with a wicked strategy to kill those E-words."

Slaine hesitated to mention that he didn't even remember doing that, only waking to find out that Saazbiote did that for him. But he wanted to take credit for something cool, so he ignored the truth.

x x x

While Slaine was busy talking and failing with nobles again, the Deucalion had another tizzy to take care of.

"Okay, first blood!" Magbaredge yelled into the speaker. Rocket launches from wherever attacked a single Kataphrakt. All of which were intercepted like flies being swatted. It was quite a shameful display. The weapons technician should really be spanked for making such faulty missiles.

Instead of seeing rubble like she yearned for, Magbaredge looked at the still-standing villain of the week known as the Scorching Solis. When reading the name, she thought it said 'Scorching Soils', and instantly thought of a situation where someone's defecations were so hot that they burned their pants. Things like that amused her during these trying times.

The Scorching Solis—piloted by Count Selnakis—was a wonderful machine confined by the design of a Mohiro Kitoh wannabe. On another desolated city populated by nameless civilians, the Kataphrakt stood on its tippy-toes. If not for the weapons, one would have confused the machine for a model strutting on one of those vodka commercials. You may chide your narrator for mocking how derivative this creature is, but when you look at the red core and laser cannons, you will start looking for an owl-mask on the top and wonder if you should call Hideaki Anno's lawyers.

"So the first rocket launch didn't work," Magbaredge said. "How about another? And another? Like tons of rocket launches until he falls down?"

Nina turned her head so Magbaredge could look at her glare in all of its deadpan fury. "Captain, we don't have the resources to fire missiles over and over again."

"What if buy some more missiles right now? I've got an arms dealer on my call list."

"We need to come up with a strategy, Captain."

"Networking's a strategy. Oh yeah, speaking of networks, satellites. And speaking of satellites, we can't do air attacks because that guy's beam weapon can reach the Satellite Belt."

"Really, Captain?"

"Yeah. Sucks, so we can't do the same thing we did to Count Mangione. So that means we just have to do it up and close!"

"But air attacks aren't any worse than ground attacks, Captain."

"Doesn't matter, up and close! We gotta face that monster like it's our in-laws!"

"None of us have in-laws, Captain."

"By next week, we will."

"What, Captain?"

"Stop arguing about the sanctity of marriage and help me fight Count Sudeikis head-on!"

Away from the Deucalion were Marito's forces—consisting of him, Yuki, Inko, Inaho, Rayet, and some other guy—preparing to make landfall. This was his first mission since the probing, so he felt much better than one would expect from one in his situation.

"haillordmagbaredgehaillordmagbaredgehaillordmagbaredge," he muttered.

"Has anyone tried helping him?" Inko asked. "Because I really want to help him, but I don't know how."

"I got used to it after the first ten minutes," Yuki said. "He'll stop after his mouth gets dry."

"But is there anything else?"

"Dude, stop trying to butt in."

"But butting in is my thing."

"I thought thinking you were dead every day was your thing."

"I'm trying to change things. People keep saying I only have one note, so I want to try another note."

"Stop thinking of it as notes, and you would have more than one note."

"But I can't, because what if I die and people only remember for one thing?"

"Okay, now you're doing that again."

"I can't help it when I keep thinking about it!"

"Then stop thinking."

"But then I'll think about not thinking."

"You're fat," Rayet said.

Inko stopped talking.

"See, I fixed it."

Instead of fixing it, Rayet's voice only made Inko remember what she saw on the camera last time. Her cynical side was telling her that at least she didn't see something worse like Inaho and Rayet screwing each other, but her cynical side was also the one telling that she would die every day, so she didn't want to listen to that part of her head for a while. It was also the same part of her brain that told her to judge women's cleavage. That part of her brain had many demons for Inko, but the other side of her mind was just cartilage and blood, so it was lose-lose to introspect.

Speaking of Inaho, he spent the preparation time staring at his sister, who stared back. They looked at each like bitter exes, except they were related and sexually incompatible, so the thought of pairing them up would be silly. Not even the forbidden fruit aspect could ship them, because their personalities would kill the buzz from any coitus.

Anyway, they all went into Kataphrakts and landed near Scorching Solis, hoping to end this battle and rack up another jacket for Inaho's Dead Count collection. He had enough for two aristocratic baseball teams, except he considered baseball to be too exciting a sport for his meager blood vessels.

x x x

Yet those blood vessels manage to flow the blood into Inaho's head that would make him think abandoning Mazuurek in the middle of a desert was a good idea. Expecting to be at his landing castle but only finding sand, the good Count spent the last few days scavenging for something to eat. He had to pummel a young break-dancer to get some nice clothing, a turban and a robe. Okay, they weren't even clothes. They were just parts of a mat the break-dancer was dancing on, but Mazuurek can pretend they're clothes if he wants. One man's trash is another man's slightly more socially acceptable trash.

At the time of Inaho's latest cold-blooded murder slash mission, Mazuurek was still stuck in that same desert. He didn't even have a camel or a vassal or anything. All he had was his trusty compass, preferring to go the way of the Belacqua than the Antiqua. The very concept of a compass fascinated young Mazuurek, because Martians had no concept of North or South. This was his first real experience with this foreign idea, that of directions. If Martians knew about directions, they wouldn't have settled on Mars. But guidelines weren't the Martian way. If you needed to be told what to do like a kid reading a manual, you didn't deserve to step on that barren Martian ground and eat dry Martian corn. Only people who had vertigo when given basic instructions deserved to sip the sweet tea that Phobos and Deimos and Jamesmos decided was worth brewing. Only a foreigner could say otherwise!

And if you don't like corn, then you probably belong in one of Emperor Ray's Martiantration Camps.

x x x

"Are you ready to die?"

"No."

"Are you ready to die?"

"No."

Even at the Marineros lounge, Slaine could find no solace. All he could find was Lemrina pricking him about fighting Mary, like an impatient child on a road trip. Why did he even think talking to Lemrina would be a good idea when facing another Cruhteo situation? Did he really want to go through the same mistakes for Cruhteogate II?

"Seriously," Lemrina said. "You look tense."

Slaine wanted to say 'no shit', but he was too weak to swear right now. "I'm trying to meditate so I can prepare."

"If you wanted to meditate, why would you come here and not to your bed?"

"Because Saazbaum changed the password for my door weeks ago, and I still can't get it open."

"Posthumous humor on Saazbaum's behalf?"

"I don't see how not being allowed to sleep in my own bed is humor."

"It's fun for everyone. Saazbaum gets to laugh beyond the grave, and you get to stretch your legs from that godforsaken nest of yours. Besides, do you really want to sit alone with only your own thoughts for company?"

Slaine took that last sentence to heart, given what's been going on with his latest escapades. The idea of sitting in a corner and having the Saazbiote talk him into despair made Lemrina the lesser of two evils, as odd as that idea sounded to Slaine's withered brain cells.

"So do you want me to say sorry? Sorry for allowing Mary-mary into our lovely home?"

Slaine knew that some apologies were hollow and meant nothing if the apologist did nothing to change their own personality, but decided to play nice. "It's okay. If anything, I wanted this to happen."

"You wanted to die?"

"No, about wanting to fight Mary."

"And dying from him?"

"I'm not going to die! I'm going to beat him, because that's the only way the other Counts will respect me."

"I struggle to see how winning against Count Mary would give you bragging rights."

"It's still a start. It's the perfect opportunity to display my strength and prove I'm more than just a minion."

"Minions have the dignity to die without leaving a mess. Nevertheless, it's so nice that you have a dream. It makes it easier to crush you now."

"I don't dream."

"You don't have any aspir—"

"No, I literally cannot dream. I did a CAT scan once and the doctor said my brain wasn't developed enough to achieve REM sleep."  
>Lemrina briefly lost her composure to wonder if Slaine was kidding. She looked as if someone tried to reveal their true feelings to her whilst wearing a badger costume. "Okay, but don't you have a dream to be a strong Earthling in a Martian world?"<p>

"Kind of."

"And I like that in you, because the only thing more entertaining than humiliating you is humiliating grandfather. The very idea of someone like you gaining power would dry his teats."

"If you hated the Emperor so much, why don't we just abdicate, hijack a bunch of Kataphrakts, and help Earth fight Mars? The best way to humiliate your grandpa would be to kill him, right?"

"Oh, Slaine. Your little brain can only come up with so few ideas to break and old man's spirit. I could show you how when you finally… embrace my point of view."

Maybe Slaine could have avoided the love triangle by telling Lemrina to fuck off. Maybe he could just push her down some stairs and let the Emperor know what she's doing so he can ascend up the chain of command. Maybe Slaine could have remembered for one second that Asseylum wasn't dead yet. But Slaine's stupid, so he just said, "Okay."

x x x

"Jackpot," Magbaredge said. "I'm totally gonna get that invitation."

Nina took a long stare at the monitor to wonder when this will be over so she can go back to bed.

"Okay, Belgian, Maremmano, Pottok, Lokai, and Mustang platoons, get ready to shoot more missiles!"

"Captain, those are just the names of horses, not actual platoons."

"Nina, just because you hate ponies doesn't mean they don't exist. Don't bully."

"We have platoons that here that don't even have those names, Captain."

"Don't try to discriminate against my ponysonas. They exist just as much as any real horse does. Now ponies, use smokescreen!"

The UFE troops threw grenades up in the air, enough to conveniently avoid collateral damage or friendly fire. That was because they were smoke grenades. They were the kind meant to hide your patterns as if you were a ninja, a giant building-size ninja that made loud thumping noises in the night. Such precautions were necessary to avoid the clever strikes of a wise foe.

"Smoke means fire," Count Selnakis said, happy that his cockpit was built with blinking lights. "And fire means pretty."

He went to the smokescreen, already dissipating thanks to Marito's lackluster approach, in search of some new flame friends to warm up his day. But before that, he made sure to push up his glasses. It's not like he needed them though. He just wore them so people could eventually find his corpse and think he was smarter than he actually was.

While Marito kept firing shots in the air because they vaguely reminded him of the shots he was missing at some two-bit tavern, Inaho left his Kataphrakt and rode on top of Rayet's like she was his steed. She became the Sleipnir to his Odin, the Prancer to his Santa, the Trigger to his Roy Rogers, the Divine to his John Waters. Even if there wasn't a saddle involved, the two fit each other more than they could have hoped. Asseylum and Slaine will certainly be jealous that Inaho's riding another woman instead of them.

He took his communicator and patched into the Deucalion.

"The target is at 29.951103, -90.085579."

"That's in Louisiana, right?" Magbaredge asked.

"Or Houston, Texas," Nina said.

"Yeah, where are we?"

"In a city," Inaho said.

"Which city?"

"Possibly in Mississippi."

"Does anyone know where we are?"

Everyone on the Deucalion either ignored her question or shook their heads. Mizusaki probably could have answered, but she was too busy sitting in the naughty corner.

"What are we even doing in America? I don't wanna save no Americans."

Nina blinked at the thought of Magbaredge saying something that made sense. "Yeah, Captain. What are we doing here and not in Yemen investigating what happened to Count Mazuurek?"

"I know. What's with that? Why are we fighting Count Milonakis? I don't want to save any southern states from a hot ray of death spraying their civilians into ashy chunks. I advocate that. The UFE's making me do things that go against my code."

"Captain, don't talk when we're in battle. They could possibly be wiretapping us."

"Oh, good thinking, Nina. Other forces, keep doing what you're doing."

While under the sea where it was safe and cold, the Deucalion shot their missiles at Count Selnakis, because that would somehow work when the other missile attacks didn't. But because Magbaredge was always right, it hit.

Count Selnakis shook, almost dropping his glasses and letting the world know he died as some glassless simpleton. Even if his entire face were charred beyond recognition in some unforeseen mishap, he wanted to the history books to know that at least he wore glasses unlike some of the other Counts who died doing nothing.

"Nobody told me about ship cannons," he said. "That's cheating, and I don't like cheating!"

He shot his death ray in the Deucalion's direction. Selnakis whipped it out like a mad flasher with the urge to show his two-incher to the masses. Unfortunately for him and his mechanical manhood, his attack could only hit in a straight line, and Magbaredge was hiding beneath the Earth's curve. As the great Doctor Pinkman would write in his autobiography, "Yeah, geography, bitch!"

Count Selnakis decided to run to a nearby bridge to hide from Magbaredge's bullets of hurt, leaping from building to building like he were robot Peter Pan ready to tame the robot Lost Boys. What he did not realize was that half of Magbaredge's troops were Japanese, and inexplicably fighting on bridges was their racial specialty. Bullets, lasers, and probably some kind of impromptu projectiles hit the Scorching Solis, fading his red core into a shade of magenta. Maybe the one lucky bullet hitting the core could make him explode in a pool of blood, but that would imply the UFE had good shots beyond Inaho, who was too busy looking up maps on the Internet like a bastard.

Through his primary school fast thinking, Selnakis looked up to see UAVs. He didn't know what they were for, but he knew they had to be bad. If the UFE were so good, then why were they using drones to screw with the mighty Vers forces? Now that was just cheating, and cheating was an Earth philosophy, which made it double cheating according to Selnakis' logic.

He used his feisty cannon to blow up the UAVs, administrating justice against the evil of unmanned drones. It didn't matter if they were weather balloons or decoys. They would face the wrath of Selnakis and his bespectacled vengeance. This was because in his past, his younger brother died in a freak balloon accident at the young age of twenty-four. He was just playing with the inflated baubles when one popped on top of his head, revealing a syringe that dropped into his eye and injected fresh warm AIDS into his eye socket. AIDS is bad enough, but Air AIDS was the worst. Ever since that day, Selnakis couldn't forgive the balloons. He couldn't forgive flying objects in general. To fly was to spit in the face of his beloved brother, who was so kind and of average intelligence.

This reminiscing became his weak point, as contemplating his childhood allowed Rayet to throw stray shots at boyish torso. None of them hit, so Rayet wouldn't be in legal entrapment for this. You can't become an offender if there's no proof you touched your target, though shooting blanks would have grayed that category.

"Is he monologuing?" Yuki asked, charging into Selnakis' direction everyone else was wandering around looking at clouds.

Rayet caught her breath after firing so many misses. "No, he's just standing there."

"Menacingly?"

"I don't know. What's an instance of a giant robot not standing menacingly? I thought that was their natural habit to do that."

"But is he doing nothing?"

"Yeah."

"And he's not charging up?"

"Yeah, I don't see any concentrated dots of whatever laser beams do before they fire."

"So that means his guard is down."

"Be reduced to ash by my scorching light!" Selnakis yelled.

"Damn."

"It's still more of Galifianakis talking hot shit instead of shooting hot shit," Rayet said. "Just fire."

"I heard that," Selnakis said.

Yuki loaded her gun. "Well did you hear this, biznatch?"

She shot into Selnakis' core, making him go die.

"Biznatch?" Rayet asked.

"Yeah," Inko said. "Biznatch."

"Did you really want that to be the last thing he heard before dying?"

"Some people don't get the privilege of hearing the word 'biznatch'. Not even once. I'm here to absolve them of that absence, making me the Prophet of Biznatch. The Angel who delivers 'biznatch' to the linguistic lepers, bequeathing a new word to them before they pass onto the Merriam Webster God's domain. Some people die without ever adding a new word in their vocabulary. You know how miserable that must feel to die without knowing words like 'dingle' and 'semi-chub'? If you're going to die, you better die with a diverse glossary of words at your disposal, or all the schoolteachers in hell will laugh at you."

"You just made that up to save face from saying 'biznatch' in public, right?"

"Yeah. But hey, we all do it."

No wonder Inaho turned out that way, Rayet thought. Maybe she could ask Yuki for some child-rearing advice when dealing with Inko.

Yuki opened her cockpit to smell some fresh air, only to get a whiff of fried meat coming from Selnakis' corpse. He smelled like someone who hadn't taken a shower in days and then was thrown into a stove. It wasn't particularly a noble end for a noble, but at least the Earth forces might give him peace.

Yuki ran to the remains of the Scorching Solis and tried to jimmy the cockpit open. War meant many things, and for her, it specifically meant first dibs on loot. The pension plan for most Earth soldiers was less than minimum wage. A grunt had to do what was necessary to survive, and that meant stealing from dead people. And if the families complained, just kill them and steal their stuff by proxy. Respect for the dead is meaningless when it can't fill your stomach, though it's suggested not cut the middleman and fill said stomach with the dead. That will be a subject ready to discuss in future chapters.

x x x

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

The cryogenics facility hissed like those fridges with melting beef leaking out of one shelf. Don't tell the Emperor that, because he'll throw Asseylum's body out and fill the entire room with his exotic meat stash. That's why you shouldn't trust royalty with preservation-themed science. They'll find a way to screw it up, even if they intended to use it to their own benefit. One little mishap, and you get Undead Marie Antoinette with an ice gun shooting her former followers. They'll eat cake by being caked in snow. Instead, the Vers forces try their best not to leave their technology to some idiots.

"Pretty flowers," Slaine said. "I'm proud of you for staying the course, Eddelrittuo."

"Please let me go."

"No. Now let's talk about the significance behind my favorite flower."

Slaine stood silent for thirty seconds. Eddelrittuo grew concerned at him not moving, and drooling on the floor. She asked, "Sir? Is there something wrong with you?"

"Roses. Roses are my favorite flower."

"Sir, you're going to the duel with Count Mary in a few minutes, and you're spending all of that time doing this."

"And that is bad?"

"Count Marylcian's probably practicing his hardest to make sure he'll get this right, while you're still here dilly-dallying like the Earthling you are."

Slaine's left eye twitched. "Silly Eddelrittuo. His name doesn't end with a –lcian. That just sounds stupid."

"Sir, just go outside and get some air. I know that sounds meaningless considering we're in a space station, but get some air anyway. You don't look well."

"I look super-well, Edward. Look at my face and tell me I'm not well!"

Eddelrittuo looked at a twitchy complexion with a few hairs dangling on his face. This young man really needed a comb, or at least some hair gel. Eddelrittuo also considering giving Slaine some cornrows just to see what it would look like. Things like that were the one pleasure Eddelrittuo was allowed to have when her masters misbehaved in front of her. "You're not well, sir."

Slaine pouted. "That's just your dwarf brain saying that, munchkin. I am perfectly fine, and I will beat Mary with my powerful man arms like he's my penis and my masturbation instinct's in top gear. I'm going to clench him and rub up and down until white goo pops out of his head. Yeah."

Unknown to Eddelrittuo, though she probably could have guessed by now, Slaine was having a mind battle with himself. Deep beneath those improperly made neurons of his laid a duel between Slaine and the Saazbiote, fighting for control over that pale, nippleless body. Slaine could mentally fistfight like the best of them, but the Saazbiote had experience, and something resembling a personality to override Slaine's functions. On some days when the Slainenstein was lonely at night, the mental duel escalated beyond the mind and culminated in Slaine punching himself in the face. Sadly, none of this was ever recorded by security cameras, so one can only make do with the mere thought of Slaine self-abuse.

At first, Slaine believed he would win against the Saazbaum remnant, but Slaine believed in a lot of things. One time, he used to believe his life didn't suck. Pfft. Now, the psychosis had made him do incomprehensible things like attack military bases by himself and force the local slave girl to learn about basic facts she could have otherwise learned on Mars Wikipedia. To give the unhinged Slaine credit, at least he didn't make sexual advances on Eddelrittuo. Only the maddest of mankind would want to tap that midget ass. And if you are one of those maddest, then shame on you. You have much better choices in vertically challenged people to touch yourself to.

"Now let me teach you about roses," he continued. "Roses… are the flowers of love."

"Are you saying this because Princess Asseylum's right here?"

"No. No, it's not because of that. I've learned to love someone more than Asseylum, and that's myself. I love myself. I love myself so much that just looking in a mirror makes me wet."

"Sir, just go to the fight."

"But I need to teach you about blue roses."

"I know about blue roses! They're signs of blue blood, right?"

"No, you stupid half-bastard. Blue roses mean miracles and—"

The siren blared, wrecking everyone's eardrums. Slaine didn't notice as a trail of blood spilled from his ear.

Eddelrittuo tried to hide her ears in her little bread roll hair thing she had all the time. "I'm sure that's the signal telling you to fight, Sir."

"No, that's just the sounds of the pretty birds. And you know bees like roses, right? Birds and the bees."

x x x

Somehow, Eddelrittuo forced Slaine out of the Asseylum Chamber and into the Tharsis, having to put on the seatbelts herself while Mary was still waiting for a duel to brew. Even in zero gravity, pulling Slaine up to a Kataphrakt was a chore. Eddelrittuo almost dislocated her arm from the effort in carrying that mess. What made it worse was how his palms produced more sweat than her entire body could in a year. Drips of sweat would leave his hand and float in the hangar bay like little orbs. They would be pretty if they didn't reek of Slaine sweat. Eddelrittuo at least thanked the maker for none of that sweat touching anything beyond her hand. And if that makes you imagine a wet Eddelrittuo, then I am deeply, deeply ashamed.

Slaine was still unprepared for fighting Mary and his Herschel. The challenge the Saazbiote presented often made Slaine forget what the controls on the Tharsis were. Then again, the last time he let the Saazbiote take control of a mecha, thousands of people died. Maybe he should do that again, except by killing Mary a thousand times since he was only one man. He let out a long breath, and let his ghost dad be the pilot.

The Tharsis launched out of Marineros and into space, making sure that Mary would stop thinking he was hot shit for once.

"So, um," Barry said, having been cast aside by Mary and only finding solace in his current role as a referee. He remembered when he would be directly involved in one-on-ones with Mary instead of sidelined like this. "Good night, good fight?"

You know that deal with the laser pointer, where if you aim it at a cat, it just mindlessly chases it like catching the thing was worth something? That's what the Herschel and Tharsis fight was like, except they were both laser pointers. So the cat analogy was pointless in the end, and you're just imagining two people pointing laser pointers at a wall and waving them like there's something deeper going on, but it's not. It's not deep. It's just hysterical waving.

Speaking of pointy laser things, Mary decided to reveal his Kataphrakt's bloodline technique. Two-dozen funnels came out of his suit, like that one guy who looks like he's selling you a coffee machine but instead reveals he is selling bees. Those things happen.

Too bad for Mary that Slaine watched what happened ten minutes ago, and created a little smokescreen to disorganize Mary's plans. He flew into a canyon in the moon, recreating a scene from some science-fiction movie everybody's watched for whatever reason.

"Futile, futile!" Mary said, even though his speaker wasn't on so no one heard it. "It's futile!"

While Mary was busy describing Barry's attempts to seduce him, Slaine was still in the canyon. He didn't even know if the funnels were still chasing him. He just liked the feel of riding between two giant walls. They were like the Moon trying to hug him, but not enough to crush him.

The crew at Marineros had no clue which prissy manboy would win. Harklight knew that if Slaine were to lose, he would be forced into becoming Mary and Barry's slave. While aroused by Slaine's giblets floating in space, Lemrina grew concerned that she'll have the Cruhteo clones boss her around like the figurehead she was. Barry was still in a bad mood, but he wanted Mary to win so he can get up in his face about being an irresponsible lover. Eddelrittuo wasn't even watching, instead praying to the frozen Asseylum while drawing fog-crosses on the glass. She didn't really have anything to gain from either guy winning, so why should she care?

Pew pew. Bang bang. For those at Earth watching this spectacle, they must have thought it was some weird light show. Inaho Kaizuka knew otherwise, seeing the fight for what it was. You might wonder why he was watching the fight instead of doing more paperwork regarding Selnakis' death, but his sister got the kill, so that's her job. Fuck paperwork when there are space battles to watch, even if there was nothing to alert Inaho of this event in the first place. Maybe he hacked into a Count's database for information. And instead of focusing on classified articles and the like, he was interested in the upcoming moon duel. Yeah, let's go with that. Perhaps Inko could find out, but she wasn't interested in Inaho's yap at the moment. His mouth was only good for one thing, and he hasn't been using it since the last theoretical full moon.

x x x

While that last paragraph was happening, Slaine took the high ground and shot all of the funnels, rendering Mary's plan to buzz him to death utterly useless. By confining himself into a tiny corner, the funnels followed him into each smaller and smaller space. But their area was limited, making them clutter each other until they couldn't move as freely as they could in space. And because Mary forgot to control the funnels himself so they would shoot the moon pieces until revealing where the Tharsis was, his weapons did nothing but crash into more moon canyons. Slaine's guns took care of the rest, unlike how it would usually happen when he revealed his goods in public.

Furthermore, Slaine planted explosives on the moon to use in such a situation. He didn't even remember doing that, since the Saazbiote did all the hard work. It was like a Palahniuk novel but with less sympathetic characters. You could never imagine Brad Pitt playing Saazbaum even if your life depended on it. Now isn't it lovely to have an alter-ego terrorist living in your head to commit to the bombings you're too limp to accomplish yourself? Moments like these proved that you should always listen to the voice in your head telling you to burn things or blow stuff up, as they will ultimately prove to better your life in the long run.

Mary, unused to Sakamoto-style pyrotechnics to win a duel, struggled to come up with a back up plan now that Slaine had spoiled his seeds. The Earth boy had sucked him dry, and it wasn't like he had any guns or bombs to prepare for such an occasion. That would be expecting too much. His face grew as red as his Kataphrakt, shifting from being as baby pink as his nether regions. How could his magnificent locust plan be quashed so easily, by Slaine no less? Maybe that talk about things being futile was aimed at himself after all. Maybe he could rise up a white flag before things get a little too salty.

But he did raise something up, something less thick than expected. Slaine went directly to the Herschel and cut his head clean off, exposing Mary to the natural environment of dead cold space. The hole made from the slash vacuumed Mary right out, in a reference to another science-fiction movie everybody has watched for whatever reason. Perhaps Mary could have learned to wear a space suit in case a situation like this would have happened, but he didn't believe in space suits. He would rather die a redshirt than live as a puffy fishbowl mean any day, much to Barry's disgust back when Mary was still alive in both senses of the word.

Anyway, Mary had lost. Slaine had won. The crowd had groaned.

Not having any wine aboard to use for celebratory refreshments, Lemrina settled by drinking her own spit and pretending it didn't taste like dog water. You know if you forgo swallowing your saliva for several minutes, you can produce a nice gulp of fresh lukewarm liquid to drink. Sewer water would have a more refreshing taste, but acquiring that would mean using up effort, while not swallowing just means letting your mouth water until you're in the cusp of drooling.

To Barry, he saw the image of Princess Asseylum chewing on cud. It didn't seem too out of the ball park, really.

"Well c'est la vie," Barry said.

"You don't care that your precious Mary's a dead man?" Lemrina asked.

"Whatever. I can just clone a new one. Call him Count Larry. Maybe raise him to not act like an asshole like the last one."

"Ah."

"Oh yeah, according to the Martian customs of dueling that we only came up with a few years ago, the loser's possessions all belong to the victor. So, tell Slaine he gets a free lamp and rubber fist."

"Why do we even have those customs? I thought we were above dueling."

"You'd also think we were above throwing colonies at planets."

"Yeah, about that. Slaine asked me about a possible armistice."

"No dice."

"Pretty please?"

"Even if I wanted to, it can't be done by the words of a single Count, or even two Counts. It needs more weight to be done, Princess."

Lemrina considered her options before saying, "Then what if he becomes a Prince?"

"Oh, no you aren't."

"Oh, yes I am. What if he weds into the family and becomes a direct heir to the Emperor? Would he have the power then?"

Thousands of miles away from Marineros, Magbaredge cheered.

Barry tried to ignore that sound and continued talking. "Well, yeah. But I don't see this working."

"Like you can stop our love from being recognized."

Already burdened by the eventual funeral for his ex, Barry waited for the shit to quit flinging. "I'm not trying to stop anything, Princess. I just don't see you two working out as a couple, even if it's only meant for political purposes."

"You don't recognize a romance when you see it, then?"

"Princess Asseylum, you guys are going to get divorced, and it'll be painful, and you'll cry so much you'll fall out of your chair and into some stairs. Just stop."

"Our love is like fresh April rain, and I won't stand for a clone to tell me I can't love my Slaine like you loved your dullard."

"Princess, if you're going to lie to me, you could be melodramatic about it."

Lemrina pulled at her hair like they were tassels. She forgot that she was still in her Asseylum disguise though, so it looked as if she pulled on one side of her head and raised the other fist like she was fist pumping the air. "I can be melodramatic as I please, Count Barry Cruz Cruhteo. I can be melodramatic when I have a new policy to adopt."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. We're going to create a new kingdom in Earthspace, like a big happy family. Where I'm the mommy, Slaine's the daddy, and all of the Thirty-Seven Clans can be our little kids fighting each other to see who gets to be the favorite of our children."

I really want to go home now, Barry thought. He just wanted to go home with his fresh clone harem and let the Princess do whatever she wanted as long as he didn't have to be there.

x x x

Back in the human fridge, there was a murmuring a-happening. Absent from the sight of Slaine, Eddelrittuo, or security cameras, the subject started opening her eyes. Two years of sleep had dulled her senses, but she could instantly feel her surroundings like it was just two hours ago. But that heart of hers wasn't the one from back then. It grew cold, emotionally not just physically. It was a cold heart for a cold person, having to face a cold world that forsook her cold upbringing. If Inaho Kaizuka needed to reborn as a cyborg, then so must the Princess. From this day forward, both worlds shall feel the wrath of Android-Asseylum Vers HALlusia. No one will survive. No one.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The marriage announcement made ripples through all of society, both Martian and Earthling, and probably those bastard Neptunians. Not only would this marriage make Slaine part of the royalty and make him one who could pick and choose those worthy of the Aldnoah, but it would render him no longer single. The idea of a taken Slaine was something that could warp realities.

The freshly rescued Count Mazuurek was disturbed by this news, but not as disturbed as the current situation in his bladder. He knew not to find a decent proctologist thanks to Inaho's threat, but that only poured salt on his wounds, and on his orifices. The marriage only served to negate any attention he could bring to his current condition. Who would care about a constipated Count when a wedding was on the way? Even Count Daveross was too busy analyzing the specs on the cake to look into Mazuurek's ass problems. He just had to find Asseylum to stop all this nonsense and live a normal life in his Landing Castle like he used to.

Such a normal life was even beyond Count Barry's reach, looking through all the cupboards on his ship for the password to authorize the Cruhteo Cloning Ranch. He tried searching those codes on his database, but since he only typed 'CCR', he received ten gigs of Colby the Christian Robot porn. Without those codes, he would have no chance of creating a new spouse. He couldn't go to the depths of commoners and actually… ask someone out on a date. He had no idea how to steal anyone's man, so he had to make one himself. But how? The ranch was part of Saazbaum's doing, not his. He and Mary were just two made out of a failed hundred, so even if he had his own farm to clone as many Cruhteos as he could, which would serve as a suitable counterpart and which would prove just as annoying as Mary?

This need for lovers and marriages proved silly to someone of Emperor Ray's intellect, mostly due to a lack of such. He didn't even know there was a wedding being announced, or the very concept of what a wedding was. He manually erased that from his mind back when he mastered the power of the Aldnoah. He erased the meaning of "wedding" from his mind around the time he erased the meaning of "lucidity". In his head, the granddaughter was preparing a ritual to absorb Slaine into her body and create a royal Slaine baby to serve as the new Emperor. That made the Emperor happy, because he liked babies. He really liked them, especially but not when well done.

What was well done was the steak Magbaredge was eating when the marriage was announced. While everyone else on the Deucalion was shocked by this proposal, Magbaredge wasn't surprised. She predicted this months ago thanks to the alignment of the stars telling her as such. She spent all of last night telling Nina about this, but she didn't believe her. She also tried to tell this to Mizusaki, but she was too corrupted by evil thoughts like wanting to live. Magbaredge also tried to explain it to Marito, but he only responded by trying to bite his tongue so he could drown from the blood. This made Magbaredge feel bad, because it reminded her that she forgot to pull her slave's teeth out. Such neglect in grooming the slaves, she thought.

But the ponderings of loons and aristocrats were all dwarfed by one stirring Lemrina's modest proposal made. The wannabe's declaration of love activated the mind of her predecessor, whose golden locks hid an icy head filled with revenge.

x x x

This social promotion demanded more prestige from Slaine and company. He had acquired a castle, a wife, and probably that one stalker who watched him on TV and is now mailing her nail clippings to him. Nevertheless, this opportunity demanded Slaine's legions become a more eloquent species. They had to hold themselves to a higher standard of living, of breathing, of communicating.

"Man," Harklight said to his master. "You're like effin' Jesus."

Slaine just gave Harklight a stare, since he didn't really know how to react to that without pulling a John Lennon.

"No, it's true, Slaine. I just checked the news. Not the Internet news that normal people read, but that stuffy newspaper news that old people like. They said you're like a divine revelation."

Slaine continued to stare. It's not that he didn't like being compared to a messiah, but this felt so sudden.

"After so many decades in war, someone finally came to change all that."

"But Asseylum wanted the same thing, and couldn't get it done. What do I have that she doesn't?"

"A ding-a-ling."

"…Surely there's more to it than that."

"No, Slaine," the Saazbiote within him said. "The lowest-born man is more capable of reaching a crowd than the most prestigious woman."

"But that's not right."

"What's not right?" Harklight asked, unaware of what Slaine's inner Saazbaum said.

"All this. That the only way I can get my point across to people is by being a married man. Next they'll want me to have two kids and a dog if I want to keep my position."

"I have a dog suit ready if you need me for that, Slaine."

"You don't need to do that for me, Harklight."

"So no chance you're going to say 'Hark, hark, good boy' to me?"

"No."

Harklight was dejected that he couldn't play Pet-The-Poodle with Slaine. "Aww."

"But all this means I won't be changing the system. I'll only be changing things the way the system wants instead of actually challenging them."

"I'm sorry, Slaine. But that's how politics works."

"But this is Vers. The politics here were dismantled by other countries centuries ago."

"Old traditions are hard to put down, Slaine."

"Then maybe I'll bring back another old tradition…"

"Foot-binding? Postmortem photography?"

"No, I'll bring back witch hunts."

"But we don't have magic, Slaine. We just have glowy robots powered by mysterious energies that can only be activated through spells."

"I don't mean witches in the literal sense, Harklight. What I'm saying is that because of my rise to power, rebels are bound to come in to do to me what I did to Saazbaum. I need you to root those people out. Find potential traitors and stamp them out before they have a chance to even touch me."

"But shouldn't a good leader be challenged often so they can adapt to those criticisms and learn from mistakes?"

Slaine gave Harklight a dirty look.

"Okay, I'll go and assassinate some traitor Counts for you, Slaine."

The word 'assassinate' triggered Slaine's intimate desires, to serve and be worthy for his Asseylum. He missed those gentle eyes looking at him as he concocted his plans for world peace. If only she was here to smile at him and tell him he's doing a good job.

The communicator on Slaine's shirt turned on, and Eddelrittuo yelled, "Sir, Asseylum woke up and tried to tear my arm off!"

Showtime.

x x x

Captain Magbaredge wished she could tear someone's arm off, because she was forced to attend a meeting with some Generals due to concerns over her actions. She had hoped to have this talk after all of her bosses were dead and mutilated beyond recognition, but some people just don't know when to die. Alas, she had to sit on a cold chair near a colorless unfeeling table filled with men led by Captain Clyde's brother General Cash. It was the kind of environment Mizusaki would have liked, which horrified Magbaredge the most. At least she brought her mind slave Marito with her to soften the blow.

"Blo ble bleet blagain," General Cash said. "Blaptain Blagbaredge."

"Why does he talk like that?" Marito said in his rare moment of recognizing things around him.

Magbaredge ignored that question. "Hello, sir."

"Ble blare bluite blatisfied blith blour blip's blurrent blactions."

"Seriously," Marito said. "Is he having a stroke? I heard 'blare' but didn't recognize a word he said."

Magbaredge gently slapped Marito. "I'm aware that you commend me, general. But what I'm looking for is more than a simple sticker on my homework. I want a seat here."

"Blo."

"Why not?"

"Blor ble blime bleing, ble blant blou blo blontinue bloviding blunit blupport blas bla blommando bluad."

"Sir, no. I want to be a general like you. I want to have the ability to make people live or die just like you, not be some flunkie."

"Blagbaredge, blou blare blover-blambitious, blatey."

"But you'll need me when we have to fight the Princess and her new rent boy."

"Blaine Blowhard? Ble blis bla blannabe blit blor blothing blut blervicing blis blistress bland blothing blelse. Blincess Blasseylum's blalk blis blothing blut blig blalk bleant blo blir blup ble Blars Blights."

Marito felt his a blood vessel bursting in his attempt to understand that. He wondered if he was the only thinking he was talking like that.

"Sir, Blaine Blowhard's not just a wannabe. He's a wannabe who almost killed my best man. That half-human fucker's gotta pay what he owes to my team."

"Bli blespect blour bliendship blith blour bleam."

"Friendship? I wouldn't call the boy and I friends. We're just two people sharing the same goal, and that goal is to conquer without mercy."

Oh, whom was she kidding, she thought. Magbaredge and Inaho were like second best friends, once removed. If the whole Nina deal ever sinks, she could see grooming the boy as her new apprentice, but not as a new lover. The good Captain suspects he would be boring in bed.

"Blut blow, Blagbaredge. Ble'll blave blour blecial blectures blor blater."

"This shit," Marito said, pointing at General Cash. "That's getting annoying! I'm sorry, General, but I can't be in this room anymore. I need to breathe."

One of the Generals clasped his hands and pressed firmly like he was imagining strangling Marito. Another was playing with his pencil like it was a sword, and acting like no one was noticing him almost stab the guy next to him.

"Sorry that my slave needs a potty break," Magbaredge said. "He's at that age when he's difficult. Sometimes he slings his food at me when I try to feed him. It's cute until you have to wash the stains. But I'll take the hint and leave to prepare for the final mission."

"Bloperation Blownblall," General Cash said.

"Exactly. Now we'll be off."

"Blut blat blabout ble blalk blablout ble Blaldnoah blower?"

Marito cried.

"We'll talk about that on the phone later, sir. Now bye-bye."

She pulled Marito by the hair and stormed off. Those Generals think they could make a fool out of her by blabbering instead of truly communicating to her like an equal individual? She'll show her. By her, I refer to herself, in that she wishes to call out her subconscious. And after that, she'll show them.

x x x

But first, she'll show Marito the price of questioning the people she was plotting to kill. Only she was allowed to question them. Anyone else doing the same could be trying to imitate her, and by proxy, trying to replace her. That was inexcusable in the Magbaredge Masterplan. The only person who could plausibly replace Magbaredge would either be a clone, Nina, or a robot with Magbaredge's brain wired into it. Other potential successors were out of the question. Mizusaki? Fuck that. Inaho? Possible, but he wouldn't have the passion of a true heir. Dr. Stiles? Maybe if he lay off the poison to get rid of his enemies, since that lacks the personal touch of a melee kill. Marito? Dead last.

"You failed me, Marito."

"Please, mistress. I like my brain."

This would have been bad enough for Marito if he wasn't in a narrow elevator, surrounded by silver walls, fluorescent lights, and Magbaredge's glare. Maybe they could have taken the stairs, even if that would have risked him slamming his head on a step and splitting his skull open. It would make a preferable fate to what came now.

"If you liked your brain, you wouldn't have interrupted the meeting. I would have gotten the upper hand, where they would have made fun of me for having the Aldnoah drive, and I would pull the Aldnoah race card to race-shame them into following my new world order. But your nitpicking orifice had to question his dialect."

"But he kept starting every word with—"

"Yes, I know. It's a military tactic to put their interrogation target off their guard and into being uncomfortable, therefore becoming more prone to saying things they shouldn't."

"That's stupid."

"It's the military. You have to be stupid if you want to work your way up. And to make sure you're more fitting for the eventual ascension, no sleep for three more days."

This made Marito's eyes grow black and tiny, tinier than whatever remained of his soul. "I've only slept two hours in the past week, Magbaredge."

"You've slept enough to think that not calling me 'Mistress' would suit you."

"Please."

"No sleep for you, Marito. It's only pills from here on out."

"Please don't give me the pills again."

"Why not? They keep that slim figure and make sure you can eat whatever you want."

"But it makes me poop water every two hours."

"Liquid fecal matter is a product of the future, Marito. You should be proud to produce such a product of progress."

"I don't know when to stop, Mag—Mistress. It keeps leaking even when I try my hardest to clench."

"Then wear a diaper. You're born-again, so I don't expect you to be house-broken so early."

Tears fell from Marito's left eye. His right eye tried, but it was too dry from the constant twitching. He fell to the ground, but Magbaredge dragged him back up and twisted his nipple for disobedience. In her new order, the titty twister will be only the gentlest of tortures.

"But please, no more toilet humor."

"Oh, poor Marito. I've only scratched the surface, the trenches if you will, of toilet humor. I'll unleash wave upon wave of crude jokes to the unsuspecting masses, and you'll be the test subject for every single one of them."

Marito cried again, the sound of his tears fading into the elevator noises.

x x x

Slaine arrived at the cryogenics lab to find Eddelrittuo panting, her swamp-colored dress torn to match its texture, and Robo-Asseylum sitting on a nearby wall. If it weren't for the glass shards from the tank shattered everywhere, he would suspect something frisky going on. But then, Slaine had little imagination when it came to foreplay.

"What happened?" Slaine asked. "What did you do to the Princess?!"

"It's not my fault!" Eddelrittuo said. "One moment, I went in to clean the stains off the tank, then Princess Asseylum smashed through the glass and tried to kill me!"

"Are you sure that happened?"

"The marks on my neck are proof that I'm pretty sure, Sir!"

"But you didn't trigger her, did you?"

"No, Sir! I was just ready to wipe off the stains—your stains, mind you—when she woke up and went berserk!"

"Then why is she sitting there instead of tearing you to shreds?"

"Because I conked her in the head. Before she could do serious damage, you see."

"You conked her on the head?"

"What was I supposed to do, Sir? Lady Asseylum dislocated my shoulder!"

"What if you killed her? Then we'd go back to square one of this scenario."

"I'm sorry, Sir Slaine! I truly am! But I'm sure she'll wake up."

Slaine diverted his attention away from the hysterics to the euphoria from seeing Asseylum's signs of life. It threw him back into those years when he played with her through the gardens. Those memories traveled into the lab and created a serene, joyful aura for the young lord. It made Slaine completely ignore the strangle marks on Eddelrittuo. But that joy stopped for a moment when the dreadful notion known as Lemrina's nuptials got in the way.

"Listen," Slaine said. "We can't tell anybody about this."

"Not even Princess Lemri—"

"Not even Princess Lemrina!" Slaine shouted into Eddelrittuo's ears, making the inside of her head ring.

She quivered. "Sir, I beg you to stay calm. You should be happy that Princess Asseylum's alive, shouldn't you?"

Slaine's head rolled down, his bangs covering any trace of eye contact with his servant. Eddelrittuo almost wanted to go to him to see what was wrong, but before she could go through with that motion, Slaine started laughing. He was genuinely laughing. The laugh became louder, louder than when he yelled at the girl. Eddelrittuo could swear the sound was shaking the lab's walls. She wasn't used to Slaine, or anything human for that matter, laughing like that. It didn't even sound like it was coming from Slaine's mouth, but directly the pits of the ship echoing into Eddelrittuo's mind. Each laugh was like a migraine thumping and thumping in her skull, begging to break open. It was like being stuck underneath train tracks, and having to hear that engine deafen your heartbeat more and more until it eventually crushed your body. She just wanted to leave and get away as far as possible, even if it meant breaking out of Marineros and into cold space without a suit on. At least with Lemrina's jeers, she could recognize them as something human. With Slaine's, Eddelrittuo couldn't grasp their true nature.

x x x

"And that's what happened in a nutshell," Slaine said to his pink-haired majesty, still at that same lounge where she must feed from since she spent twenty-two hours in a day here.

"So why is she in critical condition?" Lemrina asked. "I thought she was fine just a few hours ago."

"Um, heart rupture. Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"She possibly, I mean, probably has days to live."

"You can't just freeze her again?"

"No, no. It's a heart rupture that's unfreezable."

"You can't even give her one of those cow hearts for a transplant?"

"Out of cow hearts. Sorry."

"Why are you sorry to me? I don't really mind, I'm just amused at the excuses you're coming up with right now."

Seeing his explanation crumble, Slaine went for the heartstrings. "Look, because Asseylum's dying. I don't know what to do. I was hoping I'd find a cure for her bullet wound, but it might be too late!"

Slaine dropped some tears on the lounge carpet to prove how serious he was. He didn't have enough tears, so he substituted some of his drool and hoped to Bird Jesus that Lemrina didn't notice. He suspected that she did notice, so he turned his back and continued to pseudo-cry.

But then he found something pushing on his ass. He turned his head to see Lemrina's head making contact with his derriere.

"Oh, Slaine," she said. "It's so wonderful that you're making an effort to make me happy. The more tears you make, the more quenched your Lemrina is."

"You mean it?"

"Oh, I forgive you for being such a silly willy. You'll be such a lovely stud when we finally tie the knot, I know you will."

x x x

The tears made Lemrina so happy that she started sweating, sweating so much that she needed some time in the local Roman bath to calm her spirits. Due to Slaine's acquisition of Mary's castle, he had also made sure to take over his bath covered in moss and columns. It was less a bath and more a pond, though pond scum could probably improve Lemrina's complexion by this point. Just as the bath would somehow filter itself to resemble a cleaning area, Mary would always throw a few frogs in to maintain that favored texture. Even if the frogs had to sustain themselves on the corpses of their predecessors, Mary still considered it a lovely domain. Too bad he's dead.

But what brightened her the most was the thought of dead Asseylum. It almost toned her piggish thighs into something that could be compared to farm animal meat instead of roadkill. You might find that demeaning, but she'll need toned thighs to grind Slaine's shriveled groin. If she had to become Asseylum's substitute, she needed to strengthen herself more than ever. She couldn't simply be the Susie to his Beauchamp. She had to make that meat know who's his boss. She needed the power to make Slaine scream his name when his privates are being squeezed.

But then she cried, because that's what you do at baths while naked. You cry. You drop tears into the bathwater that will surely pollute it and make your body even dirtier by default. At least she didn't fake cry like Slaine and poor her saliva into the bath. That would just be pitiful, almost as pitiful as talking to Slaine. But times were changing for Lemrina. She had to learn how to stoop to Slaine's level if she wanted to make him a groom. Pulling up to her feet was impossible, so she had to make do with sacrificing some of her primal glory. She once made Eddelrittuo take a glimpse at her primal glory, and she vomited in the sink right after.

x x x

While Magbaredge was away to talk to pencil pushers, Mizusaki was along in the bridge pretending to be Captain. She wore a paper hat while sitting on Magbaredge's chair, feeling her groove and wondering just how long the Captain sat here to make it so indented. It felt uncomfortably warm, like sitting on a freshly used toilet. Then Mizusaki's imagination traveled to the thought of Magbaredge rubbing her ass on the seat and doing chair exercises. Suddenly, the fantasy of being Captain was no longer so alluring.

Meanwhile, Inko, Rayet, and Calm took advantage of the Captain's absence by eating from the restricted pantry. Nina joined them even though she had her own stash, mostly because she felt lonely without Magbaredge.

"So you heard about the marriage?" Inko said while taking a slab of beef from her tray, gnawing at it like a squirrel. "It might be a sign that we don't have to fight anymore, since the Princess will all be happy-happy from marriage and won't kill us."

Nina and Rayet glared at her like she let out the school hamster out of his cage.

"A shame that the Princess got married before me," Calm said.

"Like anyone would marry your blonde ass," Rayet said.

"Of all the things you could've said," Nina said to Calm. "You had to choose that?"

"Hey, the Princess has no tact to fall in love."

"And you do?"

"Come on, I have tact."

Unintentionally, Calm's mind flashbacked to all of the girls he attempted to talk to but failed, most of which included his family members and several nuns.

"But what I'm trying to say is, why did the Princess choose to get married now? And to the guy who shot Inaho, Shane?"

"Slaine."

"Yeah. So what if, maybe, she's forced to marry him. Like Inaho's saying the Princess isn't acting natural, and I could tell too because I could guess from her lip movements. I learned that from a lecture online, where a guy said if a girl makes the wrong lip movements, there's probably someone going on with her enzymes, right?"

Nina tilted her head at Calm, wondering how it went so wrong it regards to his upbringing.

"What else did they say about enzymes?" Inko asked. "Because I felt my mouth twitching a little yesterday and—"

"It's only twitching because you're too paranoid," Rayet said. "Calm down and eat your meat wedge, like the caveman you are."

"Okay," Calm said. "Maybe Shane seduced her."

"Shut up," Nina said.

"But you didn't hear what else I was gonna say!"

"And it was going to involve something that would make me cut off part of your penis, then salt the wound so you'd be forced to live forever with a half-shaft that oozes blood every time you get erect. Would you like that, Calm? Huh?"

Nina said all of that with a straight face, yet her anger oozed through every syllable. Even Rayet was surprised at Nina's outburst, almost taking her mind away from what Inaho was doing right now.

x x x

Because nothing with organs in this ship interested his fancy, Inaho spent his time sitting near his lucky Kataphrakt and looking up some random blueprints he found in a trash bin. He thought it was a Kataphrakt at first, but the design proved to be much more lurid. The boy found himself fascinated by the tire around the torso, and the red stripes everywhere. Inaho especially found the face intriguing, finally something that could express the same emotions Inaho did. The miniature face around the waist could go though. It expressed too many faces for Inaho's liking. And he didn't understand why there was a toy car on the left wrist. How would that improve one's potential killing power?

But just as he was reaching down, Yuki appeared with a bag.

"Damn, I searched everywhere for you, and I only had to climb up here," Yuki said. "Don't want to hang out with your friends?"

"Would you interact with them?"

"Touché. I know when you're into something, everything else fades away, but do something besides sitting alone and looking at pin-ups."

Yuki pulled something out of the bag and dropped it on Inaho's lap. It was in the shape of a triangle and had red and green bits on the side. Inaho continued processing what it was before Yuki said, "It's a piece of fruitcake."

"Fruitcake?"

"Yeah, it's the perfect fusion of nutritious fruit and puffy pastries into something unholy. Something that can only be redeemed by the stomach acids in your belly."

"I am not hungry."

Inaho picked up the fruitcake and sat it down next to him. He then gently petted it like a puppy.

"But I look at you, and see someone who needs something inside him… you're still fawning for her, aren't you?"

Inaho sighed. "Correct."

"Yeah, I know it sucks to see a girl you like marrying a guy who tried to kill you. I went through the same thing when I was your age."

"I do not recall."

"Yeah, it was a blur for me too. All I remember is the coroner's report. Motherfucker probably deserved to burn for turning me down though. You don't turn down baps like mine."

Inaho nodded, because he wasn't trained to express another reaction.

"Now don't let Asseylum going rogue get to you, okay?"

But the person Inaho focused on wasn't Asseylum, but Slaine. The thought of Slaine beating him at his own game infuriated him to his bones. Inaho wanted him to remain docile in the grand plan, not a spanner trying to tear apart his precious strategy. But for now, Inaho could do nothing whilst his plan unraveled. He could only wait and hide his emotions from the rest of the Deucalion lest they suspect something about his thoughts. They must keep thinking he was the emotionless ace pilot so he can still have a chance at taking Slaine down, down on his knees.

"So you want this fruitcake or what? These things are rare, you know? Won't be able to eat one for years if you let this rot."

x x x

"Okay, Slaine. I looked up some of the Counts who might have a bone to pick. I guess it's time we eff them up, right?"

Slaine completely ignored Harklight's question, and almost Harklight's very existence. This mortal man was nothing when compared to the current woman inn Slaine's mind, the one who didn't have to tuck it in to reveal a lovely groin.

"I guess you're still worried about the Princess dying."

"What? Oh, yeah. I'm inconsolable."

"You don't seem like it."

"No, I'm really trying to keep it all in, like I'm imagining the Princess dying in my head over and over again."

"That doesn't seem like it would help."

"It doesn't. Bye now."

Slaine ran away from Harklight, his lieutenant wandering around like a child that's lost its parent, and went to the room where Asseylum slept. Like the bath, it was also covered in moss and columns. Maybe Mary had a green thumb. How sad he gets more personality in death than in life.

He went in and found Eddelrittuo with a helmet and bulletproof vest on. Why in the world she needed that was beyond Slaine's imagination. Also, there was Robo-Asseylum on the bed. He kneeled down to Robo-Asseylum and stroked her hair. It was the softest thing he had ever touched, and Slaine experienced many bouts of alone time, mind you. The abundance of crude penis jokes was outnumbered by the thoughts Slaine had for his love since childhood. After almost two years, she was here and not in a stasis tube. Asseylum could finally be able to touch this teenager with attitude. They can't touch in that way yet though. Slaine has to wait until the third date to get any of that comatose action going on.

Alas, the first date rule was broken when he felt a hand caress his boyish cheeks. Slaine focused his attention to the hand, and realized it was Asseylum instead of Ghost Cruhteo trying to slap him from beyond the grave. Eddelrittuo continued to hide in the corner, while Slaine cried real crybaby tears at the sight of Robo-Asseylum, awake and ready to stretch her nuclear arms upon all of human civilization.

"Slaine Tr—," Robo-Asseylum said. "Slaine Troy—Slai—Slaine Tro—"

Part of her head was hissing as she tried to complete the saying.

"Slain—Slain—Slain—Slaine Troyard."

"Yeah! It's me, Slaine. You remember."

Robo-Asseylum turned to Eddelrittuo. "Small human female will bow to me!"

Eddelrittuo, afraid of another attack, just decided to go for the obedient response and bowed like Robo-Asseylum was her personal Jesus.

Slaine hugged Robo-Asseylum, while she hugged back and said, "I can smell cowardice from your glands, Slaine Troyard!"

But Slaine ignored her eccentricities. The Princess was alive, and all was going to be swell. As swell as Kataphrakts firing into civilian territories. As wholesome as random lightning striking in the background. As joyous as piano music to make war scenes seem more poetic somehow. Yes, everything was going to be all right.

"Seylum, you're hugging too hard. I think you're drawing blood."

x x x

While the lord was beaming, the Counts were scheming; with Mazuurek and Barry doing something on their respective bridges that doesn't rhyme with –eming.

"Congratulations on still being alive," Barry said, with a forced smile welded onto his face. "Must have been a bitch to get back here with us."

"Understatement of the century," Mazuurek said. "And I heard about what happened. Sorry for your loss."

Barry clenched his teeth like a politician doing a photoshoot. "Eh, I don't mind. I'll be perfectly fine without Mary."

"Barry, you're shaking."

"No, it's just the sweltering heat. The central air in the Landing Castle's on the fritz."

"When we're in outer space?"

"Yes."

"Okay, Barry. I have something very important to tell you in regards to Princess Asseylum."

"Hey, Mazuzu, have you heard of this show called The Wire?"

"Yes, I know about The Wire."

Barry's tone grew more stilted with each word. "It's something that I would definitely tap, you get it?"

"Why would you have sex with a television series?"

"Because some men are into that kind of 'wire tap', right?"

The grin on Barry's face became more forced, and uncanny.

"Barry, I know what you're getting at. I searched the ship, and plucked out anything that could route back to him."

Barry finally let some blood flow through his head. "Oh, thank God. Okay, what do you have to say about Asseylum? This better be important."

Mazuurek remembered the lump inside him. He should remember to get a colostomy bag soon. "I don't think the Princess is who she says she is. I heard from classified Earth forces that Slaine might be doing something."

"Yeah, I know. He might be doing her. But yeah, I'll look into it."

"And we have to be fast about this. We can't let Slaine find out. I mean, he killed Saazbaum."

Barry flapped his lips a few times, mostly out of habit since the chips have run out. "Duh, Mazuurek. But right now, we can't do anything against Slaine at the moment."

"Why not?"

"Didn't you listen to the broadcast this morning? The Princess gave Slaine the full rights to the Aldnoah drive?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You know what that means, right? He holds all of the Aldnoah activation privileges. If we go against him, he can instantly turn our Kataphrakts off like that."

"So what you're saying is?"

"Slaine has the power to literally check our privileges, and that's what's keeping all of the Thirty-Seven awake at night."

Mazuurek thought about the stakes raised if Slaine ever enacted a mass privilege checking. Every Count would become helpless while only Slaine's men would be the ones with all the power. Here he was worrying about his bowels when the entire hierarchy was about to either perish or obey the will of a madman. This wasn't simply a mission to rescue his anus, but a mission to save everyone's anus.

"Also, Maz. If you ever lose your powers, don't try to kiss Slaine to get them back. You might get Aldnoah powers back, but at what cost? At what cost, Mazuurek?!"

x x x

After Slaine avoided another hug/strangle from Robo-Asseylum, he went back to his office and sulked. He tried to do the pose where he would clasp his hands in front of his mouth and stare at his employees menacingly, but he lacked the shiny glasses or overall competence to pull of that look. He would also need to grow a neckbeard, but that on Slaine is like trying to shave naked mole rat.

But Slaine needed something to reach out to his newly found empire. He had to find that hook so that he could stay relevant to whatever's going on in the kids' heads. Maybe he could write a jingle, or guest star in some M-Dramas so the Vers Empire would think he was still hip. That street cred he got from killing Mary was quickly fading, and he needed to prove that he wasn't just that kind of guy.

Harklight appeared before Slaine could further lament his lameness. Thanks to recent renovations, Harklight had to walk up a set of stairs and stand because there wasn't enough space for a second chair in the Slaine Domain.

"Sir," Harklight said while kneeling, as this new room was only made for someone of Slaine's height. And Slaine, as you know, was quite shorter than the average man, but not short enough to be a dwarf. He was in that middle realm, where he could find solace with neither race.

"What do you want, Harklight? I'm trying to brood."

"I checked the records. Morale's on the rise because of you. Because, you know, morale's a measurable personality trait in us Martians."

"Good."

"Slaine, you seem sad. People finally like you. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Maybe I'm being greedy, but I can't take satisfaction from that alone."

"You want me to install a computer in this office for you? It would be nice to have something other than a table."

"No, it's all right."

"Oh yeah, I also checked the number of Counts who still hate you. I know Count Daveross is on the fence, while Viscountess Libitina is writing a historical novel about how much you suck. I could assassinate them both if you want."

"It's okay. They'll bend to my will eventually."

"Slaine, you could be less passive about this. You were the one who suggested these witch-hunts in the first place. Be consistent."

"You know those are the two words that this entire world's failed to commit to."

"Slaine, bubby. What's the matter? You don't just kill people one day and then sulk the next. You want people to make biopics about you? Where you kill people then get sad about it? You want to become the kind of guy known for pussing out on murders? That's just effin' disgraceful."

"It's just the Princess."

"Oh yeah, that. Maybe you could divest some of the invasion funds into making sure she doesn't die. How about that?"

"You think everything's so easy, don't you?"

"Not all of them. Just the simple situations. The one that could be taken care of if we weren't so mopey about it."

Slaine didn't react with words, but with grumbles. That'll be cool for the kids if he gave indirect reactions, won't it?

x x x

In his next attempt to be cool for the kids, Slaine punched a wall and moaned. The Saazbiote mocked called him 'emo' for doing that, but 'emo' is such a prehistoric term. Only old people say that word unironically. Slaine's trying to appeal to the newer generation, and punching a wall will show that he means business. That's going to show people he's more than just an over-emotional sap. It certainly will. He needed to focus on himself and only himself, ignoring the cries for political reform or Lemrina asking where her dwarf slave was. Slaine had to make a spiritual journey to find himself and discover the true Slaine within him, no matter how much he'd have to sit down and do nothing to achieve that stunt. If he could do that, he could finally step to the top of the mountain and scream to the sky that he was finally likable. Like that would ever happen.

x x x

"So I heard they're calling the Kataphrakts 'Kataphraktos' now," Magbaredge said. "What's with that? Who changes the name of their stuff like that?"

Nina raised an eyebrow.

"It's like they're trying to steal my premise, how I'm trying to invent the lovely language of the People's Republic of Vagina, where people speak either Cuntonese or Mungdarin in my Vaginese nation. It'll be a return to form from the Six-hundred eighteen A.D. to Nine-hundred seven A.D. era of the Pootie Tang Dynasty."

Nina looked cross.

"Oh, fine. Be that way. Let's send the Orlov Platoon to the next Landing Castle."

"Captain, why're you naming another platoon after a breed of horse?"

"Stop challenging my pony terminology, Nina. Mizusaki did, and that's why she sleeps with the clamps on."

"I'm just asking, Captain. These aren't even horse breeds that people bother to care about."

"Because it's to remind people that I'll trample on them with my war hooves."

"Why war hooves, Captain?"

"Because imagine a pony killing someone without using their hooves, Nina. Imagine someone getting killed by a horse mane. That's fucking stupid. Too stupid even for me. Now where's our star boy? He should be leading the assault against those Martian bastards."

"Staring at birds, Captain."

"Good, then. That's the alternative approach to sticking it to the Martian man."

x x x

Hunters like to tease their prey before striking them down. That's what Robo-Asseylum did while allowing Eddelrittuo to live. To believe she let her survive out of her past memories was nonsensical to the new Asseylum, who could not adhere to those old human moralities. Those cries for peace became barren in her mind. But she did want a sort of peace, the kind of peace achieved by scouring the universe of any form of life. However, she couldn't get this yet, so Robo-Asseylum was sad, as sad as someone of her being could be. Even when Eddelrittuo rolled her over to the Inexplicable Garden at the Late Mary's Landing Castle, Robo-Asseylum could find no joy. She could only find confusion, and demand for fire and corpses in her wake.

Slaine tried to assuage her rage by appearing with some blue roses, thinking that the concept of blue roses would amuse Robo-Asseylum enough to stop thinking of murder for once. That would probably failed, but he wanted to try. He wanted to calm the beast within her, before she will inevitably go through another near-death experience. Slaine wanted the old Asseylum back, even if he didn't particularly remember who the old Asseylum was and more for how she looked. Even in his old memories about Asseylum, he just remembered what he said instead of what she actually talked about, that narcissist bastard. Sensual-wise, Slaine didn't mind the new Asseylum, as long as she didn't leave permanent scars after bedtime.

"Okay, Princess," Eddelrittuo said, trying not to run away like the last time. "Don't you like this garden?"

Robo-Asseylum sneered. "Why do you have a garden in a warship?"

"Uh, Princess. This is a space station, not a warship."

"Then you have failed miserably in my absence, have you not?"

"Miss, please. I'm just trying to make you happy."

"To make me happy, you could claw at your throat until blood bursts out of your neck."

"But I like my neck."

"I do not, Small Human Female. Your opinions are nothing. You are nothing. Why don't you just die like the rest of these creatures will?"

Eddelrittuo pouted. "Then what do you want besides me dying? Besides anyone dying?"

"…Give him to me."

"Who?"

"Inaho Kaizuka. Bring Inaho Kaizuka."

"Princess, he's nowhere near here."

"Bring Inaho Kaizuka!"

"We can't! He's on the opposing side."

"Then kill the opposing side and bring him here. Bring Inaho Kaizuka to my feet, or die by my hand!"

While Robo-Asseylum kept barking the same order, Eddelrittuo noticed some blue roses on the ground. Going by instinct, she assumed Slaine heard the conversation and left in disgust. Poor guy, Eddelrittuo's skewed mind thought. He might be acting stupid, but he didn't deserve to have the love of his life become a psychopath desperately searching for a just-as-robotic sociopath. But alas, what could Eddelrittuo do? While Lemrina's attempting to marry Slaine, Slaine lusted for Asseylum, while her eyes were only looking at Inaho, who probably has some beau of his own that Eddlerittuo knew nothing about. This love triangle or love rhombus or whatever boggled her mind, as it should. Maybe if she survives the war, she can pitch these events to a telenovela studio. The main problem came from questioning if someone of her name would fit in with the Mexicans.

x x x

Kabloom. Arrowheads were attacking the UFE Kataphrakts or Kataphraktos, because now this war was being fought with sticks and arrows. That shows how much society collapses, as well how much the mental state of the average trooper can deteriorate. It's not even shell shock that explains it, but like a magic goblin that gets in your during war and makes you do stupid things. You would find that silly, but experience war and tell me my assumption isn't right.

Because of this downgrade in technology, Inaho could instantly pinpoint the direction the arrows came from, instantly deducing it was an invisible Kataphrakt shooting straight.

"Target acquired," Inaho said.

"We didn't have infrared for that shit?" Magbaredge asked. "I thought we had infrared for this shit."

"Why are you asking for infrared when we know the target?" Mizusaki asked.

"Because a real Captain nitpicks about their armory even when they don't need it."

"Just shoot, Captain," Nina said.

"Hey, I'm not finished. Why locate an enemy one way when you can pinpoint their location a thousand ways?"

"One way works fine, Captain."

"It does if you're stupid, and into shitty ideas like 'pragmatism' or whatever they call it now. Troops, find another way to locate the enemy."

Groaning, one of the Orlov soldiers threw a smokescreen where the arrows came from, because the enemy would disrupt the air currents or whatever force of nature Magbaredge wants to take advantage of now, in lieu of just shooting when they have them in their sights.

"But are we sure the bad guy's really there?" Magbaredge asked. "Maybe it's like a decoy."

Everyone groaned, even me.

"…All right, then we'll fi—"

The Deucalion, and the entire city for that matter, shook.

"Okay, what the fuck was that?"

"Multiple enemies appearing, Captain."

"That's bullshit. I thought we were fighting one at a time. I'm not in the mood for a Count Rush."

"Oh, my dear," Orga said on his communicator. "I'm afraid moods are unnecessary for what I, and my comrades, are about to do to you."

"Ravish me?"

"No, I'm going to show you what we do to lobsters that refuse to be boiled."

"You ravish them?"

"Only the brown ones, madam. Only the brown ones…"

Magbaredge remembered that her hair was somewhat brown, frightening her. This was the worst time to remember what the color brown meant. Count Orga, Count Sebring, Countess Raffia, and probably some other Counts who don't matter were going to make their move, to challenge Inaho and decide who's the strongest once and for all, until someone shows up with a bigger Kataphrakt to take them all out.

x x x

Meanwhile, Harklight got the keys to a new Herschel. Sweet, he thought. You would think his thoughts to getting a free mecha would be more detailed, but he's Harklight. That's what he does.

x x x

If you have been reading this far, I thank you for somehow tolerating my mad ramblings translated into something involving the series . As a gift I give you three routes from where this will go.

Route 1: Orga, Sebring, and Raffia fuse together into a super-Kataphrakt that kills Inaho. The Deucalion rams into them in a kamikaze mission, letting Magbaredge die in a blaze of glory. Meanwhile, Slaine gets to have a happy Mormon marriage between Robo-Asseylum, Lemrina, and Harklight. He dominates both worlds as Emperor T-Yard, and everyone suffers ever after. Also, I guess Barry finds the codes for the ranch and gets a harem of –Arrys.

Route 2: Continue to the next chapter.

Route 3: Watch the show or something. I'm sure they'll have a saner ending than whatever I come up with.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The battle between the Martian Knights Three still raged, much to everyone's surprise. The UFE hadn't fought a Kataphrakt that hadn't taken more than one session in a while, so their tactics in a stretched combats had grown rusty. Also not helping was having to face three Kataphrakts instead of the usual one. Inaho could concoct a plan to take down one guy, but three? That's silly. It's not like he could play off each others' strengths and make them hit each other to cancel out their advantage against him. What do you take him for? He may be crazy, but he wouldn't stoop to the level of multitasking. That's only if academia reins him in.

"Kaizuka Junior, I need you," Marito said, trying to stop the tears from interrupting his words.

"The only thing that you need is me," Sebring said. "Me and my ass."

Fair enough, Sebring's Kataphrakt did resemble a giant ass. It wasn't even a vague resemblance. It did definitely have the exact curves a building-sized ass would need to fulfill that assish quality.

"Yuki's whatever, please!" Marito cried. "I don't want to go ass to ass with this meanie!"

"You will. You will if I want to, baby. My ass does not take no for an answer, and what my ass wants is what the entire nation wants, now you can take my ass or you can become a fucking political dissident, because that's what you'll be if you refuse the diplomatic delicacies that my ass can bring to yours."

"I don't want your ass!"

"You do want my ass! Everyone who has met eye contact with it has wanted it more than they wanted water!"

"I don't want it!"

"You'll likes it, and you'll wants it! Some men see an angel calling them home before they die. I want them to see an ass instead. Ashy cheeks instead of pearly gates, darling."

"Why did you even make a Kataphrakt like that?"

"Because I want people to judge me by my cover. So when they see a big ass, they get a big ass."

"Marito," Magbaredge said. "Pull out of the ass."

"I don't have time for your jokes!" Marito said.

"No, seriously. Pull out. You're gonna die if you don't."

Marito ran away as fast as possible while Sebring's busty mecha followed suit. Marito could remember the nightmares Sebring brought back, where John Humeray came back to spank him for all that death he brought to his miserably short life. At this point in the game, all Marito could remember about his best friend was shooting him, the whole being-on-fire deal, and the spanking nightmare. He didn't even recall what he looked like, so his dream version of him looked like a random man with 'I Am John Humeray. Do Not Stel' written on his face. His dream state couldn't conceive of proper spelling, see.

Whatever that man used to be, it couldn't help Marito when he tried to avoid the gaze of Sebring's ocular chocolate starfish. He still didn't even know why a Martian Engineer would design such a Kataphrakt for the Counts. Did someone just stare at the groin of a mannequin and decide to weaponize that? Then the most horrible thought came to Marito, that this wasn't the final design. Somewhere lurking in a Martian basement was the final form of Sebring's mecha, complete with smooth legs to compliment that pelvic machinery. If being attacked by a groin was bad enough, Marito could only imagine the horrors an enlarged lower half of the human body—complete with enormous clear heels and metal lingerie—could do to his psyche. It would be like a Herbie Hancock Hallucination.

This is why he will never consummate any sort of a relationship with Yuki, because she has a groin. He can never date anyone with a groin for as long as he could live. Such is the fate of the man with the crude fear.

But that ignores the complete havoc Raffia and Orga were doing to the rest of the troops while Sebring focused his carnal desires on Marito alone. Of course, you are probably ignoring that havoc too since none of the victims have names, while Marito's nominal importance means that him spraining a thumb merits more attention than an entire city dying. That's okay, because Magbaredge was carrying the weight in her mind. She could always recall the close friends lost to the miserable Martian war, all negative five of them.

"So are we going to help Marito, Captain?" Nina asked. "He's emotionally compromised. We should try to help him before he runs off a cliff and kills himself."

"No," Magbaredge said. "Let him consider this a learning exercise."

"But, Captain. He'll die."

"It's fine. He won't. I'll use a claw to grab him if he reaches that point."

"A claw, Captain?"

"Yeah, you know one of those crane games? I built a claw on the Deucalion that's kind of like that, but for grabbing big things like robots."

"That won't work, Captain."

"It will, don't go on about morals—"

"No, I mean given Marito's current mental state, he'll probably shake out of the claw and break free if you try to grab him."

Magbaredge blinked her left eye before blinking her right eye. It was a thing she did when people corrected her. "Oh crap, you're right."

"Yeah, Captain."

"Shit. Then that means the claw's completely pointless."

"Captain, where did you get the claw?"

"From black market dealers. One of them was called Sherry."

"And how much money did that claw cost?"

"Like ten or twelve."

"Ten or twelve what?"

"People."

"What?"

"You heard what I said, Nina. In tough times, humans are the only reliable currency."

"We probably needed those people, Captain."

"It's okay, we have enough humans to buy anything you want."

"I meant for maintaining the ship."

"Yeah, to pay for resources to maintain the ship."

"What black market even uses people for money?"

"Remember the slave auctions in early America? That was a black market. Get it?"

Nina felt like a glass shard was poking her brain, reaching further each time Magbaredge made a tasteless joke. At this point in the game, it should've went in one side of the head and went out another, like those slapstick comedians with arrows attached to their scalps.

"As tasteless as a slave's palate after being forced to eat leather as punishment."

Oh yeah, Nina remembered the few times Magbaredge could suddenly read her mind. Or maybe she heard that voice in her head and not from the woman herself. She could no longer tell anymore.

x x x

Instead of sharing the fun with the other Counts, Slaine was busy holing up in his upstairs metal office like our future glorious Martian Overlord usually does. The prospects of going outside proved weird for him, because small tight spaces became more alluring. He was transforming from a fledgling child star into a washed-up twentysomething, with a net worth almost as low as a Neo-Canadian's. My apologies to Andrew Graham. These efforts to be cool were backfiring. How could they? Perhaps the sudden promotion from underling to dictator was too much for the boy.

"Or maybe it was me," the Saazbiote said.

"When will you shut up?" Slaine asked.

"Never! I'll live inside you even after you're dead!"

Slaine leaned back and raised his head up, as if awaiting a fresh golden shower to pour down his near-albino scalp. Even when he was at the top, Slaine had to fulfill the role of the bottom. Why did life have to be so fair and completely just to Slaine?

Thank God it was Sunday morning, so no one would be around to hear Slaine act like a bitch upstairs. Vers forces work hard enough as it is without a chicken-boy whining in the floor above them. Even Harklight was away, buying groceries from the local Martian farmer's market that sells such local items like expired carrots and brown bananas. At this moment, he was lucky enough to snag a piece of steak that was ninety-eight percent bug and horsemeat instead of ninety-nine. Slaine will love this meat stew that Harklight lovingly made with his special lukewarm love sauce.

But moving away from what goes in Slaine's gizzard, the Saazbiote continued to fill his already empty mind with mockery beyond the grave. Maybe Slaine could finally give the hard liquor a try, but seeing Slaine without his inhibitions is not a safe sight. So he slumped in his chair and let the Saazbiote send him a psychedelic field trip. The chrome walls and flat table were disappearing as Slaine went through the mental portal, seeing so many images from his past, some more sordid than the others. If a white man claiming to be a Buddhist priest checked his charkas, he would detect them contracting like vaginas ready to shoot out newborns from their chute.

"Remember when this happened?" the Saazbiote asked.

Slaine saw what happened two years ago, because that's literally on everybody's mind instead of what happened six months ago or three years ago or any when else. He saw when Asseylum was first thrown into the stasis tube, ready to let those healing juices go into her body despite wearing a jumpsuit. He could remember clawing at the glass, wanting his sweet Seylum to wake up and give him a hug. But then the vision broadened, revealing a heavily bandaged Saazbaum standing beside him.

"So yeah," he said. "She'll be fine. I wouldn't worry too much."

"You shot her in the head!"

"And you shot me in the head. They still haven't taken Mr. Bullet and his family out. I feel like a condo for shrapnel immigrants. You're lucky I'm talking to you in coherences, young man."

"I know."

"You're double-lucky I'm still helping you even though you don't have a gun to my head right now! I don't know why I'm still helping you, but bullet in the head."

"Yeah, thank you."

"And you can look at me for once, Turduckaine, instead of your snowglobe princess."

Slaine continued to shed his bodily fluids onto the stasis tube, letting Asseylum know that Slaine would always get wet for her even when she's asleep.

"Why did you bring me back here?" Present-Slaine asked. "Asseylum's okay now. Of all the things to angst about, this isn't one of them anymore!"

The Saazbiote giggled. "To give you a hint of what's to come."

"That she'll be in the tube again?"

"Oh, she'll need tubes when I'm done with her."

"What."

"Because I have your body, that means someday, when you're at your weakest, your hands will do what mine never could."

"Is this sexual?"

"No, nothing about you is sexual."

"Then what?"

"Remember how I shot Asseylum? With my hands? But that failed?"

"Yeah?"

"If you ever lowed your guard, I'll shoot Asseylum again! With your hands. And that will succeed! Yeah!"

Present-Slaine screamed in unison with Past-Slaine during that flashback. There was one Slaine screaming in the Saazbiote's left spirit ear, with another Slaine screaming in his right spirit ear. You might wonder how left and right can exist in the mental state, but it just does. Even if he had to live down hearing two Slaines scream into his soul, it was all worth it for the Saazbiote. Now he was going to go to another one of Slaine's memory and beat that Past-Slaine up just to beat the pressure away.

x x x

"Fire, fire, more fire!" the Clydesdale Leader said as his troops shot at rubble, because the enemy Kataphrakts were getting so silly that they were expecting a cloud Kataphrakt next week, or a fruit Kataphrakt. It's like how a haystack may be hiding some delicate civilians, and all you need to fix that dilemma is through a little stabby-stab with your bayonet.

What can't fix it are the arrows Raffia fired, because nothing confuses war crimes more than outdated weaponry. Forgoing the invention of the gun, she kept shooting arrows out of her Kataphrakt, much to the horror of the Clydesdale platoon. Bullets were less scary because they were tiny, but arrows have that extra kick of being symbolic of every man's great fear of their own phallus. With the Clydesdales too busy shooting at empty houses, Raffia did a quick job busting their heads in.

"Make sure you don't harm their bodies," Sebring said. "I don't want a scratch on my collection, girl!"

"Wait, what collection?" Marito said.

"How did he get on our call?" Raffia asked.

"It was a public one."

"This is on the com, not on the internet!"

"Still a public one. Now what collection?"

Sebring chuckled, starting to talk while locating Marito. "Oh, my dear, how lovely of you to ask. See, I work as a curator of sorts. A curator of the human form. But not just any part of the human form, no. I partake in the beauty of buxom buttcheeks. And Martian buttcheeks, they don't have that splendor. They're too flat for my liking. You Earthlings have the more gorgeous behinds, but none of you are willing to let me see what's below. None of you. 'Cause of that, I took a side-career as a poacher. A poacher of butts. I kill a man. Take his body. Cut the ass off. And mount it on my wall, like deer heads. Thanks to zero gravity, I can float all through my castle touching every buttcheek lined from the sauna to the living room. Asses are my idol, little man. My messiah. He calls to me. They call to me. They call me Sebring 'cause I bring the seed, the seed planted to bring a new age of butts to us heathens."

If screams were bodies of water, Marito let out an ocean's worth of infantile wailing. He didn't even have a resolve to give out orders for Inaho to carry, letting the boy initiate his own tactic of sitting around and looking at the enemies for a possible strategy rather than attacking head on. You would think Inaho could concoct a scheme to fight three enemies at once. It's almost as if he deliberately prolonged this fight so it could last another installment or something. But then the lightning struck, making Marito and Inaho run away from the oncoming storm.

"Swiggety-swooty," Sebring said. "Imma laminate that booty!"

Why Inaho didn't kill that man when he had the chance was a question Marito will ask himself for the rest of his life. He hoped the boy would have shot in the Badonkadonkaphrakt's ventilation shaft or whatever lets the air out, preferably not where he guessed it would be.

Raffia and Sebring cornered Marito and Inaho, having already killed or dismembered the rest of the troops, even good old Orlov 22. We shall forever miss her and her inexplicable appetite for yarn. A moment of silence for her cause. Now anyway, two manchild Counts were about to kill two manchildren without nobility. A proposal could be made about this being an analogue to how our titles are the only things that can ensure our survival both in life and in memory, but that gets thrown out by an instant defense from the Deucalion.

"No one abuses my boys but me!" Magbaredge said as the Deucalion moved in to block any attacks coming from either Sebring or Raffia. "And, um, maybe Dr. Stiles. He can abuse them as long as I authorize him too. Yeah."

Marito and Inaho latched onto the Deucalion as it flew up, moving through the sky like a toy boat making its way through dark bathwater. The Marito from two years ago would have preferred a more dignified rescue, but the Marito now was just happy he had all of his fingers intact. Now he could draw smiley faces on all ten of them again, pretending they're the friends who would never die or leave him.

Raffia chased after them, knowing that Sebring would start having the shakes of not permitted to have his target. But Nina opened a turret to fire at her invisible ass. Just because you have robot superpowers doesn't mean you can't block a gun to the face, Nina thought. That was her way of telling her to fuck off for having an invisible giant robot, as if people were too stupid to not see the giant footprints she left all the time.

But then Orga shot back, or more like Orgas.

Nina turned to Magbaredge. "Captain, for some reason, the forces attacking us are growing."

"I see it," the Captain said. "He's making copies of himself, like holograms except they can hit as hard as the real thing. It's almost as if he's using shadow clone jut—"

"We're not going there, Captain."

"But he's asking for it! How am I supposed to describe his powers without bringing that up?"

"Nobody deserves that comparison, Captain. Not even the man trying to kill us."

Not hearing Magbaredge continue the argument, Nina went back to shooting the clone Orgas, blowing them up and leaving clone debris all over the city.

"You can't stop me!" Orga said. "No matter how many mes you stop!"

"You can't gang bang the Magbaredge train!"

"I'm like a lobster that just molted!"

"A weak hide's a weak hide no matter how you shed it!"

"All hides are strong!" Sebring yelled.

"Some asses are more equal than others!"

"Anus Communism is an ideology for the weak!"

"I don't even know who's saying what anymore," Mizusaki said.

"Learn to keep up," Magbaredge said. "You can't keep up with banter, you're gonna fall behind and get a case of the Not-Relevants like Inko's getting right now."

"Who's Inko?" Orga asked. "If she's not relevant, then that means she's not sexy."

"You sound fifty and she's sixteen, you sick fuck."

"Woman, I am twenty-nine. I just smoke to mature my body and voice so I look perpetually sixty-six."

"Why?"

"Just turn off the call and guide us out of this mess!" Mizusaki said.

"Shh. Now why, Oldy-McGoldy?"

"Because liver spots really get the Martian women wet."

"Okay."

She turned off the call now and pointed her finger straight to the skies. "Now, my darlings! Fly! Fly away from this libertarian hell!"

x x x

"So I've been reading Atlas Shrugged recently", Barry said. He was still having his ship-to-ship conversations, trying to hold on to a tradition that almost died with his spouse.

"Why are you reading that?" Mazuurek asked. "You could literally read any other book besides that."

"Because reading the book mirrors the fun I had with Mary."

"God, your relationship must have sucked."

"Yeah, we were only together because we knew each other for longer than we knew anyone else. Like childhood friends, but with test tubes. I remember back six months ago, Mary was sad he didn't have a belly button, so he carved 'BARRY' on his stomach as a compromise. But then the scars started healing, and it looked like '3/ PI Y'. Eitherway, I appreciated the thought. I loved being his little Three Slash Piy. God, I keep saying it's no big deal, but the mask is starting to crack. I really am missing Mary, chips and all. He might have been a bitch, but he was my bitch. Oh Mazuzu, you'll never know what it's like to lose your artificial growth buddy. It's like losing a hand. A hand that did more than jack you off."

Barry's tears were obscuring his view of a visibly disgusted Mazuurek, who fake-coughed and said, "So, I have a plan that involves serving Slaine."

Barry dried his face with his lonely hands. "Oh yeah, about the Princess and Slaine being a sleeper cell Slaine."

"We need to cover that territory, find out what he's doing and what's the deal with him suddenly marrying the Princess like a D-list celebrity trying to reinvigorate their career. It's all insane, and I need to find out what's going on."

Mazuurek almost mentioned the real reason why he needed to uncover this, but knew nobody would ever take his problems down there seriously.

"Okay, I'll tell the Princess about your demand, but at a price."

"What price?"

"A drink."

"But what about the ranch?"

"Still can't find the codes. Figured I might give dating a shot, even if that's an Earthling tradition. Like, why can't Earth go with arranged marriages like us? Why can't they do that?"

"They're old-fashioned, I guess."

"I know, right? What kind of barbarian goes outside and picks a bride of his own? But it's something I have to do. A way to take one for the team."

"I'm not going to be your bride."

"Just one date to see if it clicks."

"But I have plans."

"I have plans too, and they involve drinks."

"…all right, I'll go on a date with you if you tell the Princess that I'll meet her."

"See, I knew it would work out. You and me. You could curl your hair more though."

x x x

Harklight came back after his little trip and hiked up to Slaine's office. "Congratulation on securing all that territory, Slaine!"

"Yeah," Slaine said. "All of that desolate land for myself."

"Don't be an effin' downer on conquest, Slaine. Every conquered territory is a little desolate before you spruce it up with some flowers and some buildings and some prisoners forced to smile. It'll be just like the war never happened."

"Harklight, I have more on my mind than wondering what to do with wartorn property."

"Like the Princess? Like how she's gonna die? I'm trying to be as empathetic as I can, Slaine. Throw me a bone, here."

Slaine's brow stiffened, the mere mention of her made him remember the Saazbiote's pledge. He had to remember to keep that in mind, but not too much to warrant Harklight's attention. He would just bungle things as usual, or at least as usual as the Harklight in his head does. "Besides the Princess. I mean the Orbital Knights. Could there still be dissent going on between them?"

"It's impossible to please everybody, Slaine."

"Not even thirty-seven people? Or whatever number they're on now since the clan purges last week."

"Wait, clan purges? I thought I was in charge with that."

"I have other assistants helping me, doing things you could never do without throwing away your conscience."

"But see, I don't have a conscience. One time, I stepped on someone's shoe by accident, and didn't apologize. Only because he didn't noticed and just walked away, but doesn't that show my inner ferocity?"

Slaine tried to look at his office window to avoid witnessing more of Harklight's inanity, but he forgot to install a window here. So he was just looking at a chrome wall, which he figured would still have more of an eloquent rapport than his lieutenant right now.

"Oh, by the way, Mazuurek and Barry say they want to see the Princess."

"But I told them she was sick!"

"That Princess."

"Oh, yeah, the other one… um."

"Lemrina."

"I know her name."

"Yeah, but you could have said that instead of calling her 'the other one', right? Whether or not your marriage is gonna be a sham, at least treat her like she's a person."

Slaine clasped his hands again to pull off that aloof pose, but Harklight wasn't taking it and saw a little boy trying to save face before he could say something insensitive again.

"You know even if Princess Asseylum gets better, you'll still have Lemrina to deal with. She's not just an effin' card you can throw away once you get a better hand."

"That's the thing, Harklight. If I were still working under Saazbaum, sure I'll treat Lemrina right. But I'm not that Slaine anymore. I'm the Slaine who has to play the king or get dropped for it. And that means I need to keep only my useful pieces by my side."

"And Lemrina's not useful anymore? Is that what you're getting at?"

Instead of answering, Slaine kept hiding most of his face away from Harklight. This card metaphor didn't work when he had the worst poker face out of anyone in this place.

x x x

"Okay," Magbaredge said, relieved that they got out of the Counts' line of sight. A part of her did hope to continue her conversations with Orga and Sebring though. It was exciting to finally talk to someone with a mental capacity equal to her own. "What's the status, Nina?"

"We have no electricity and we need to land fast, Captain."

"…Shit."

"Captain, the screen's blank, so I can't tell where we're supposed to land."

"Then look through the window."

"The window's cracked thanks to your move to save the guys, Captain. Remember?"

"Damn. Then go where the wind's blowing."

"When we're on a spaceship?"

"That's what the pilgrims did with their spaceships!"

"The reason we're in this war in the first place is because pilgrims did that with their spaceships, Captain."

"Fight fire with fire, am I right?"

Inaho walked into the bridge and stared through the window. Thanks to his luckily non-electricity dependant cyborg powers, he could detect a nearby valley they could land on. He said as much to his Captain.

"All right," she said. "My boy pulling his weight as he always does."

"I could've done that once the backup power came on, Captain," Nina said.

"But you didn't."

"Captain—"

"You're on notice, Nina. Your abilities are slipping."

Nina grew irritated at Inaho, and what she saw as another chance for him to flaunt his abilities at everyone. She feared that one day he'll replace her in the Captain's eyes, becoming the new number two while Nina became a figurative number two like Mizusaki. This almost made her want to stab her own eye out and replace it with cybernetics, but then she remembered how much it hurt when she put on contacts once. If one fingernail can make your eyes burn for an hour, imagine how much it would hurt to cut it out with a knife. Maybe if she did some practice stabbings, it would hurt less. She didn't want Magbaredge to see her wounds and laugh at her for being too scared to cut her own eye out. That would be a dishonor to the entire Klein clan, even worse than when her mom once got the nickname "Kook Lucks" added to her last name.

x x x

While Slaine was cooling his head off at the lounge, an unwanted force of nature reared its head.

"Slaine," Lemrina said. "Don't you want some dinner?"

Slaine didn't answer.

"It's some of Harklight's special love stew. You sure you don't want some?"

Slaine still didn't answer.

"But Slaine, don't you want to celebrate our new Earth kingdom by eating?"

"Why should I celebrate ruling over vulgar trash?"

"But Slaine, you are from Earth."

Unbeknownst to Lemrina, the Saazbiote was talking for a currently sleeping Slaine. "I don't need your trailer park to make myself feel better, woman."

"Slaine, let's not go through this."

"We are going through this, woman. If you're too weak to poop out an heir, I'm gonna go through with this until we invent one of those virtual cyber-wombs to birth my chicks."

"Slaine—"

"Enough with the 'Saline this' and 'Saline that', I'm tired of your mouth being used for the words. We haven't even done the deed yet because—"

"Because I'm crippled?"

"No, because you're not blonde! You can never have the blonde hair that she had!"

"I can bleach it if you want!"

"But can you bleach everything? Can you get to a point where I can see every part of your body hair and not see a faint hint of cotton candy color? You're too weak to become a blonde! Too weak to drench your pubes in loving bleach!"

Lemrina didn't even know how this conversation went here. But through being abused by Slaine, she missed when she could abuse him. If only she could return to those golden days. They were only a month ago, but it felt like years since she could last feel better than Slaine in every way. Now, it felt like he was looking down on her, even if he was literally doing so up until now. Oh well.

x x x

Meanwhile, Inaho was having a headache. It was so bad that he needed to press on his robot eye to make it feel less hurty. This is definitely not a way to foreshadow the side effects of overusing your eye to pull out random ways to save the crew, no sir. This is just our little Inaho Kaizuka having a headache, a cyber-headache. As most people get headaches, just as many replace their eyes with supercomputers, don't they? If you aren't one of those people, then what's wrong with you? Get a knife and a mad scientist on board to turn part of your face into a sonic screwdriver. It's what the cool kids are doing, and exactly why Slaine's failed to capture their demographic.

Though one would suspect his headache also involved a little poison from Nina for attempting to take away her position in the Deucalion's hierarchy.

x x x

In the midst of barely surviving, Magbaredge called an impromptu meeting with Marito, Mizusaki, and Nina. It's not like they could convince to change any of her future plans, but it's always nice to have something with ears listening to your grand schemes instead of the usual stuffed animals.

"First question of the day, why are three Counts attacking us instead of the weekly special?"

Marito only answered through drools and random mumbling.

"Maybe they finally wised up," Mizusaki said. "You can only send one guy a week without realizing that's a failing strategy."

"But that's the thing. The Vers forces are doing something that makes sense, something I didn't plan through! I expected to make stupid decisions through the entire game."

"Like you are, Captain?" Nina asked.

"But they're intentionally stupid decisions. Their stupidity was a trick to lure the Martians into a smarter scheme of mine. While they, on the other hand, were unintentionally stupid. There can't have been any layers in their plans."

"So you say, Captain."

"Yes as I say. And don't even doubt it!"

"Can we get back to why the Counts are going at us in larger numbers?" Mizusaki asked.

Magbaredge glared at her.

"Just a thought. I'm thinking maybe it's because of Lemrin—I mean, Asseylum. Yeah, Asseylum. It's because of Asseylum's proclamation, and how she wants an Earth kingdom. Don't know what that has to do with us though."

"Because she thinks we're wedding crashers."

"…I think it's something more important than that—"

"There's nothing more important than crashing a royal wedding, Mizusaki. I know you don't know about that given your chances of courting a princess are dead last."

"Hey!"

"But your first point, I think we have something with that angle. This is like the first time Lemrina said something to the Counts that wasn't just mumbling about blue skies."

"Really? Because I wasn't there when it was playing."

"You don't want to hear it now?"

"No."

"You don't want to hear the words of a crippled Princess? You ableist."

"No, even if she had legs that moved, I wouldn't listen."

"Now you're saying you won't listen to a woman whose hips moved on their own. You prude."

"I didn't say that!"

"You implied it. You implied it like you supplied it."

"Stop putting things in my mouth!"

"At least I am putting things in your mouth, unlike your imaginary boyfriends."

"Please, Captain," Nina said. "We can't let this tear us apart. Yet."

"Speaking of mouths, I can't see anybody's."

"…What are you talking about, Captain?"

"Yeah, I'm looking at everybody's faces, and I can see everything but their mouths and part of their noses. Like what the hell's with that?"

"I see everyone's mouths, Captain."

"But I don't! Even when I get closer, I see everything but your mouth. It's weird, because it makes it look like nothing's moving if your mouth's gone. Like the past three minutes have just been me seeing still images of you guys. Strangest thing. There's nothing worse than a stealth hole. Who the fuck can trust anyone with a stealth hole? Not me."

Marito wanted to bring attention to his theory before he was enslaved, but knew he had no choice in the matter.

"Say 'ah'."

"No, Captain."

"Say 'ah'. Come on."

"No, Captain."

x x x

While that was going on, Slaine was busy seeing Robo-Asseylum and checking if she recuperated enough for Slaine's demands. If you thought the wording of that sounded off, just wait.

"Seylum," he said. "Are you doing well?"

Robo-Asseylum snarled.

"Good. Very good."

"Mmph."

"Do you remember what happened before you were knocked out?"

"…No."

Score, Slaine thought. Robo-Asseylum having no idea what happened was the best revelation of the day. Now he didn't have to make an awkward explanation over what he did when she was asleep.

"But Slaine," the Saazbiote said. "How are you going to tell her about the Lemrina situation?"

I won't, he thought. He'll just keep both ladies in the dark and go back and forth like no one else knows the better.

"That seems kind of douchey. Like affair levels of douchey. I may have killed millions of people, but I'd never date more than one girl. You might wonder the double standard on how adultery can be worse than murder, but them's the breaks in Martian culture. The same culture you're appropriating for your own ends, you white savage."

"But you're just as white as me!"

"What was that?!" Robo-Asseylum asked.

"Nothing. It was nothing, Princess. I was just—"

"Discussing racial tensions with yourself?"

"Yes! Don't you ever feel so much white guilt that you have to blurt it out loud?"

"Only idiots believe in white guilt, idiots who aren't fit to live in my domain."

"And that's why I blurted it out, to let the white guilt out of my system."

"God, are you hearing yourself?" the Saazbiote asked. "Why the fuck are you bringing up white guilt instead of telling both Princesses what's what?"

Slaine didn't have an answer, because he was Slaine. If he knew the right decision to most events, he wouldn't have been a Count in the first place. But right now, he didn't care about being correct. He just wanted Robo-Asseylum to go back to bed so he could do anything he wanted while she was unconscious.

x x x

While Slaine remained unaware of how off his desires were, Princess Lemrina met up with two men twice her age while no one was watching.

"A pleasure to be here," Barry said. Mazuurek would say something, but he didn't sleep last night because his stomach was acting up, and part of him forgot that he was even here in the first place.

"Yeah, whatever," Lemrina said, still masked as Asseylum, and still unable to toy with anyone now that Slaine and Eddelrittuo left.

"You seem sad. What's the matter?"

"It's nothing."

"Come on."

Lemrina's avoided Barry's eyes. "Seriously, it's nothing."

"But you're not asking stupid questions like you used to. Oh, wait. Did Slaine hit you?"

Lemrina looked at Barry again, annoyed that he would make such an accusation. She hadn't been hit since Gilzeria pat her on the back once. He unfortunately didn't know his strength at the time, forcing his bastard daughter in her current life. "What makes you say that?"

"It seems like a Slaine thing to do."

"But I thought you were loyal to Slaine now."

"Being loyal doesn't mean having to like the bastard."

"But he has a plan that will help us all. A plan to revolutionize the vulgar trash on Earth."

Barry raised his eyebrow, while Mazuurek's head bobbed up and down to stave off sleep.

"I thought you loved Earth."

"That was just a phase, Count Barry. Slaine's shown me the true light. And that light is moist."

"I see."

Bullshit, Barry thought. Either the Princess was an idiot, or she flip-flopped harder than Mary did when trying to clap without his hands. Eitherway, he could smell something fishy. Something evil. Something heterosexual.

x x x

Lemrina left Barry dry and went back to the O-shaped halls, unable to stand a conversation with a man like that. She needed someone with less mental resolve, someone with a greater tendency to cry by her feet when asked a question.

"Hey Princess," Harklight said, walking by her.

The Princess stopped her tracks and grabbed Harklight. "I need you."

"For what?"

"For Slaine-specific reasons, as odd as that sounds, like where is he?"

"It's classified, sweetie."

"Why is it classified?"

"That's classified too, sweetie."

If Lemrina were mentally one month younger, she would have a fit on the floor and beat the walls with her gooey, baby fists. "Just tell me. I'm the future Queen—"

"Empress."

"Whatever. And I have the obligation to know."

"Even if he was in the pooper?"

"…Maybe."

"Even if he was having private time?"

"Yes."

"Even if he was having an affair with another woman?"

"Of course!"

"Then it's still classified. Sorry."

Lemrina's face displayed a hue of red flowing through her cheeks, like someone squeezed them a second ago. "So you're saying he's having an affair?"

"Mmmmmaybe."

"Answer me!"

"I'm not saying he isn't."

"So he is?"

"I don't know. He doesn't effin' tell me anything."

"Then why did you say that if you didn't know?!"

"You were having a bad time, so I wanted to lighten the moment."

"By making me think my boyfriend was cheating on me?"

"Hey, you laugh at other people's misery, so I thought you'd laugh at your own once in a while. A bit of self-schadenfreude."

The realization that even Harklight could mock Lemrina and get away with it was enough for the poor, aristocratic girl. Times were changing too much for her. At first it was just Slaine doing it, now this lowborn is getting in on the action. Soon, even the dwarf servant will treat her like yesterday's trash. This was it for Lemrina, a sign of the times. She decided to carve her own path and find Slaine for herself.

Immediately after, she fell and couldn't get up.

"You want me to turn on the zero gravity?" Harklight asked.

"No! Just let me wallow here. I deserve it anyway."

"You don't, Princess. Come on."

"I do! And don't call me Princess like I deserve that title. This is who I am now!"

"You know, you don't even need Slaine if you're gonna act like that, Princess. Just take a mirror and draw a white wig on the top, and you could see Slaine all you want with that sad sack of a face of yours."

"Just leave me alone with my floor. This floor was made for me, because I let you fuckers walk over my body. The floor probably wants to have sex with me more than Slaine does."

"Princess, no."

"Admit it. Nobody loves me. Nobody cares who I am until I put on the mask."

"The mask?"

"The Asseylum face."

"Oh yeah, that."

Somewhat blind to her pain at the moment, Harklight considered taking Lemrina's chair and riding it himself to see how it felt, but decided that would be in poor taste while the owner was still alive. And since killing Lemrina would be impolite, he set that thought aside for later. One day, Lemrina will die, and Harklight can take her chair and go for a ride through the landing castle. Being able to use a wheelchair while not being crippled at all is the greatest, and that feeling was something Harklight wanted to taste most of all.

x x x

Meanwhile, Mazuurek sobered up and discovered something important to him and nobody else. It was probably cool, but it involved not abusing Eddelrittuo, so your dear narrator renders this not important for the narrative. Moving on, Lemrina somehow crawled around the halls and went to the cryogenics facility. One might wonder why Slaine didn't lock it or close it down now that he had no need for the place, but one might wonder lots of things about Slaine's psyche that will never get properly explored. Therapists hate him for his lack of adherence to any known psychological disorders. He was too cool to be labeled by the man like that.

Moving in like a drunk Stephen Hawking, Lemrina saw something out of flux with her imagination. Much to her horror, she discovered an empty stasis tube, free of Asseylum or any Asseylum-related bacteria haunting the realm. Perhaps she was moved after being put in critical condition, Lemrina thought. That must have been what happened. But that made too much sense to be credible for the Princess, so she assumed the worst-case scenario. Slaine must have hijacked her unconscious body and reconfigured it as an organic sex doll to get his jollies on. That must have been what happened, she thought. It certainly had to, because the thought of Asseylum coming back to life and launching a sordid affair with Slaine was too much for Lemrina to bear.

But then she was relaxed by the notion that Slaine and Asseylum were having sweet monkey love in another man's Landing Castle, and that relaxed her a bit. As much as she resented Asseylum, she did like to visualize her naked body, and was always annoyed that she was in a jumpsuit for two years. Only a sick half-man could think that was a nice position for her sister to be in, and that sick half-man was in for some big trouble once Lemrina could get her hands on a gun.

Said sick half-man would be in even bigger trouble if, say, Asseylum were given something to jumpstart her memory. It would such a shame for that abomination if Asseylum were given a memento of sorts, one that could completely shatter his already thin plans. But maybe time would be kind to Count Saazbaum-Troyard and let him continue his business unabated. With all of his schemes going perfectly, he could retire without need for worry and plow Asseylum like a rabbit on shrooms. That would surely be the sign of a kind and trusting universe, one that wasn't co-opted by your dear narrator.

It's too bad that Eddelrittuo had to give Asseylum her necklace, instantly triggering the memories of all of last season in her mind. That's such a shame for Slaine's plans. How dare his lover be allowed to remember recent moments in her life? That was something for him to keep hidden until her deathbed, at least. Maybe he'll need a hammer or some pills to rectify that situation. In the end, there's nothing that quite translates to love more than severe brainwashing.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

So Inaho was the one who gave Mazuurek the necklace, who was on orders to give it to Eddelrittuo, who decides to give it Robo-Asseylum, somehow triggering her memories and making her remember exactly what happened two years ago. How Inaho could possibly know this is how you cancel out amnesia is anybody's guess. Maybe his eye told him that. Maybe the necklace was like a fob watch, containing Asseylum true essence or something. She was hiding her personality in it because the Family of Blood was trying to kill her, and by Family of Blood, I mean the contents of Saazbaum's stool. But that was then, and it's not like we'll see any ghosts from the past inexplicably biting this narrative just as the show is tying itself up. Now that's all said and done, onto the show.

x x x

"The codes, they're finally mine! Now to make the ultimate clone! Hahahahaha!" – A very desperate Count

Instead of monitoring this situation at all times like the creeper he is, Slaine was busy sitting around at the Marineros bridge that he hadn't used for months. The cozy bridge gave him all the care he needed. Plus, it had stairs, so Lemrina could never bother him. But no matter the comfort of small cramped spaces, he was called by the power of the bridge thanks to Harklight being vaguely claustrophobic. He wasn't a fan of small things, which would make one question why he was working for Slaine. But let's face it, contradictions are the only way people like Harklight can wake up everyday without crying in a fetal position.

"Lake Victoria has been completely pacified," Harklight said.

Slaine didn't make eye contact. "That was what we were conquering?"

"It appears so, Slaine."

"You couldn't tell me where it was before I assigned the Counts."

"I didn't know either. Only found out after checking the maps."

"Then who gave the order to attack there?"

"You wanted to kill that Inaho, and his ship was going there, so."

"But why were they going there?"

"Maybe the Captain had a cultural epiphany and wanted to explore African culture?"

"In a place called Lake Victoria?"

"She didn't want to explore it too hard. It's a step-by-step process before you can become the next Allan Quatermain."

"I don't know who that is."

"Neither do I, Slaine."

"Then why did you bring him up?!"

"I like bringing up random names. Makes me feel smart."

"Even if you don't know what they mean?"

"Of course, it's a step-by-step process."

If there were a nearby wall in this designer's nightmare of a bridge, Slaine would thump his forehead on it. He could possibly take advantage of this location by pushing Harklight off one of the rails, dooming him to an ambiguous fate in space station abyss. But that would risk him being replaced by an even worse lieutenant. For all Harklight's faults, at least he was loyal. At least he would shoot him when he would go crazy or anything. Harklight would certainly never do that in a last-minute scenario. And don't think Slaine crazy for considering that option, because Slaine's not crazy. Zero out of zero doctors can attest to his sanity, and that's an inarguably perfect score.

While Slaine was busy reminding himself that he wasn't a psycho, Harklight continued and said, "I guess that means the thought of three Counts attacking struck more fear than ever in the UFE, right?"

"Oh yeah, right. Good on that."

"And that means more Counts will believe in you now that you scared the effin' Deucalion away like that."

"Wait, Deucalion?"

"Their ship."

"I forgot what that was called."

"You forgot what they were called?"

Slaine stamped his boot on the ground, indicating another sign of the terrible twos that Slaine never escaped. "I'm having trouble keeping up with names, Harklight! How am I supposed to remember everything when there are like thirty guys I have to keep track of?"

"But there are only ten you're really required to know. This campaign's not the easiest to follow, but it's not the clusterfudge you think it is."

"Clusterfudge?"

"Yeah, clusterfudge. You know how if you squish peanut butter hard enough, you can make diamonds? It's like that with fudge, where you take a million brownies and crush them together into one super brownie—"

"Do you even know what you were talking about two seconds ago?!"

"The war."

"And what about the war?"

"That we're fighting off the forces of that Aldnoah-powered pilot who keeps giving you an anti-boner."

The A-word infused some anger into Slaine's blood vessels. Good, because he'll need them. "Yeah! Yeah, that's right. The Aldnoah power. The one thing keeping this war alive. You know what dad said all those years ago, about how much he lamented the society that was based on Aldnoah activation rights. The only ones allowed to have all the power are the ones with magic energy in their blood. He thought it was a mistake to ever let us have access to that power, to ever even think of living on Mars in the first place."

"Don't put words in my non-existent mouth," the Saazbiote said.

"Shut up, dad!"

"Are you okay, Slaine?" Harklight asked.

"Do I not look okay, Harklight? Because I'm not, not when Aldnoah is ruining our lives thanks to people killing each other over that kind of power, the kind of power that ruins Lemrina and Asseylum's lives!"

"I'm not sure how it's Aldnoah that's ruining their lives. It's just petty politics that are."

"Petty politics driven by Aldnoah, which is the entire reason why we have to continue the campaign over Earth to stop it."

"So to stop war, we have to continue war?"

Slaine's eye twitched. "That's right!"

"Well, Slaine. Do you even know what you were talking about two seconds ago?"

"I do, my dear Harklight. War's the only thing that can bring an end to war, and that's what I have to do if we want anything to get done!"

Harklight did not know what to say to Slaine at this point of his temper tantrum. He wanted to run away and go watch Teletubbies like he usually did on his off hours, but the sizzling trainwreck that was Slaine's psyche wasn't something he could easily avoid.

"Even your subordinate can tell you've gone off the deep end," the Saazbiote said. "It's all a matter of time until they recognize how hopeless you are."

"Shut up dad!" Slaine yelled. "I do what I want!"

Harklight wished he had chips right now.

x x x

The Deucalion was still at some random canyon in Africa thanks to Sebring; unable to acquire the luxuries that would befit a commando unit that miraculously wins almost every battle. Maybe that can be changed once the next board meeting happens, where Magbaredge will probably shout into the Vice Admiral's face until he cries into submission.

Speaking of, she was sitting around the bridge with Mizusaki while everyone went out for gruel. Mizusaki would have joined them, but Magbaredge didn't want to feel lonely. She felt worthless without her slaves to talk down to. Even in her darkest moments, she can pretend she's better than at least some people. For Mizusaki's part, this was the closest she could get to feeling important in this ship. Also, she was inebriated, so it's not like she was hard to convince.

"I'm booooooooored," Magbaredge said.

"You've been saying that for the past hour," Mizusaki said.

"Yeah, and repetition makes me bored. Doesn't it make you bored, Mee-zoo-sah-kay?"

"Not as much as you expect, Darzana."

"If this whole Captain business doesn't work out, I want to build my own country here. I'll name it Magbaredgestan, and our national craft will be in antiquing. I'll just make that Inko girl put together arts and crafts and pretend their centuries old artifacts the people of Old Magbaredgestan made before we pillaged their crops and made this our home instead."

"I'd ask 'What are you talking about?', but I suppose that wouldn't click for you."

"Yeah, and we'll invent our new language using clicks."

"What?"

"Click-click, motherclicker. Click-click!"

"Is it racist if there's no one around to be offended?"

"It is if someone records this. Don't record it, Mizusaki. If I see this on RuTube, I'll break your legs and make you walk on your kneecaps."

"I wish I was recording this."

Magbaredge attempted to drink coffee, but it spilled on her shirt. She still pretended it was in her mouth and gulped down her saliva. Luckily for her, she had been holding the cup in her hand for three hours, so the coffee had gotten too cold to burn her breasts. Magbaredge would have liked her bosom to burn though. It's the kind of thing that gives her the adrenaline. "I'm sure you'd love to shove a camera in my face, giving me my money shot. Because no one will give you your money shot."

"I'm not into that."

"Of course you aren't. You don't like money shots, because you do it for free. Isn't that right, Mizu?"

"Ugh…"

As one can tell, the loss had cost many their dignity, whatever dignity remained from being under the Deucalion.

"Hey next time, we should use the two platoons we got and use them for cover, you know?"

"We're using our own guys for cover?"

"Yeah, so we don't get cold. I mean if like we used the platoons as shields while we escaped and made another plan to kill their asses?"

"Like human shields? Look, I'm buzzed as shit, but not enough to think that's a good idea."

"No, it's not human shields, damn it! It's like if someone tries to shoot at us, we grab an unsuspecting guy or girl or whatever their life choice is and use them as an unwitting shield."

"That's a human shield, Maggie."

"No, it isn't if you word it differently. Calling it 'human shields' is stepping on my boundaries, woman. Don't fucking step on me."

"Not trying to step on you, girl."

"Good, then don't! Now make some graphs."

"Graphs? Graphs on what?"

"I don't know. Just graphs. Graphs on whatever you want. Like graphs showing why you can't get laid. Those kinds of graphs."

"Yeah, fuck you."

"What? It's not hard to make a graph. Just draw an obtuse angle and draw a line between it, like a little stick person spreading out the thighs and whizzing out of their crotch but diagonally."

"What about, uh, pie charts?"

"Oh! Yeah… those… fuck those. They just remind me of food that we're not having, because someone has to be too incompetent to kill some sumbitches."

x x x

Said sumbitches were busy having a sane meeting regarding how to kill the Counts Three. Inaho uploaded pictures of their enemies on the table, the Elektris, the Skandia, and the Ortygia. I could tell you which ones were own by which Count, but you probably guessed by their names already. The one Kataphrakt that shoots out electricity is definitely the Ortygia, by the way.

"So how do we kill them?" Rayet asked.

"I don't know," Calm said. "Three guys. Three suits. Sounds like a Sonny Chiba movie."

"Shut up, irrelevant one," Nina said.

"How exactly does it sound like a Sonny Chiba movie?" Yuki asked. "Like three against one, that describes lots of movies, why his specifically?"

Calm cleared his throat and said, "Cause it reminds me of the one movie that helped guide my life for the last decade, that one where Sonny Chiba became Iron Sharp and fought the metal aliens who blew up the Hitler building."

Nina went to Calm and broke his left pinky.

"What was that for?!"

"That is the price of failure," Inaho said.

Calm would have said something, but his hand hurt too much for his words to make any sense, so he sat in the same corner Marito was and cried alongside him. Inko would have done something to console him, but Inko was not a character that gets attention in this narrative, so her actions mean nothing.

"Well enough with that," Yuki said. "Now how do we kill these guys, specifically the cloney one?"

"We must locate the host Kataphrakt and destroy it," Inaho said. "If we accomplish that, it is possible that the copies will dissipate."

"Or they could be literal clones," Rayet said. "Like a hydra or whatever."

"That's silly," Yuki said. "You're silly."

"At least I'm not the one who almost got killed by a giant butt."

"Dude, don't say that in the same room as Marito. He's having the shakes thanks to that. Now how do we kill the invisible one?"

"Smokescreens."

"They didn't work the last two times."  
>"Same action, different reaction. That's magic science for you."<p>

"But smokescreens aren't magic."

"Trust me. We launch smokescreens again, they'll think we're just weakass cowards for resorting to the same tactic. What they won't get is that we still have guns, so they'll lower their guard and we'll shoot them for that underestimation mistake."

"Okay… now what about the Electro-ass?"

"Electric bullets," Nina said.

"We don't have electric bullets."

"We will when the Captain rubs the bullets with balloons."

"Or insulators!" Calm said. Nobody acknowledged what he said though.

Yuki turned to Inaho in order to gauge his reaction, seeing him calmly nodding to all of these ideas. She could sense him slowly absorbing all of these plans and turning them into one super-plan, like an ideological melting pot but with fewer trails of tears. But beyond that, she was still annoyed that Inaho outranked her at this point. How could something that came out of her body be more important to the cause now? Maybe she should've dropped her alcoholism earlier so this wouldn't have happened. But on the other hand, doing that would mean they'd all be dead by now, so kudos to fetal alcohol syndrome.

And she really hoped no one could read her mind right now, so she could keep the familial illusion intact. In case a mind reader was around, she mentally repeated 'My parents are dead and Inaho's my brother!' to herself a hundred times. That will show those psychic bastards.

x x x

At the lounge that no one has cleaned up in ages, Lemrina succumbed to the angst over slowly becoming useless in Slaine's plan. How could she prove her true identity to the young lord when she was turning into a cipher? Even Harklight had more stakes in the plan than she did. She didn't even know what the plan was, for God's sake. Every time she asked Slaine, his voice raised several octaves and called her a peanut. She didn't know what any of that was supposed to mean, but it was enough to forgo asking future questions if they were going to lead to even more queries, which would lead to more problems, tangling into a vine of inquiries more complex than this narrative can muster.

Before she could contemplate all of these potential situations, Slaine called. When you want a difficult thought ignored with something small-minded, Slaine Saazbaum-Troyard's your way to go. Lemrina paused to collect her thoughts before going up to see Slaine's forced smile yet again. Looking at him nowadays was like meeting those homeless ladies who sell roses. Any supposed comfort just became alienating, making the Princess rue any future encounter from there on. Also, homeless ladies smelled weird, and didn't have the charisma of those homeless guys who sold their homeless newspapers. Those people were the alpha homeless. If Lemrina ever attains world domination, she'll let the alpha homeless survive. All the other poor people can go die though, Empire's orders.

Slaine opened up his yap and said, "Good evening, Princess. The Earth campaign is going without a hitch."

"Sure, whatever. Like that's anything new."

"We conquered part of Africa, Princess. Can you conquer part of Africa?"

"No."

"Then stop complaining about my exploits, Princess! Now anyway, the Counts need your blessing. They want a reason to keep on fighting, and my word isn't enough. They need the word of a teenage girl whose legs don't work."

"God, you're just using me for the disability angle again."

"Sure I am. Also, the part of the Thirty-Seven Clans that doesn't acknowledge you as a woman wants a blessing too, so you're going to have to wear a mustache and call yourself Prince LaSalle."

"What?"

"Yeah, Prince LaSalle Vers Testosterone. You didn't know about that?"

"Know that some people think I have a penis?"

"Lemrina, don't be transphobic. The public can imagine the shape of your genitals all they want, as long as it betters our nation's strength."

Lemrina tried to do a spit-take, but her mouth was dry.

"Besides, the public still thinks you're a natural blonde. Too bad there are some things not even the perception filter can hide."

Slaine winked, making Lemrina grimace at what he just implied.

"Okay, then how is the Princess doing?"

"You're right here, Princess."

"I mean the other Princess, the one you care about. Is she still in critical condition?"

Slaine looked around for a suitable answer. "Yeah, sure, uh, she's still in the crits for now. She may be, um, braindead! Yeah, she's probably braindead. She needs tons of care and can't be upset by anybody."

"But if she needed to be upset, where would she be?"

"Probably in one of the moss rooms, but what would I know?"

"Okay, bye."

"Bye! Wait, sh—"

The call cut off before Slaine realized he gave away the location, and finally said something to Lemrina that wasn't a dirty lie. If she wanted to flaunt her woman parts to all of Mars, she can do it without any phallic illusions. She was a strong Martian woman who didn't need no fake penis.

x x x

On the battlefield, the Sorraia and Gotland platoons had to fight Orga and the Orgettes. Yes, Magbaredge named these troops after ponies that only the most hardcore of equestrians can recognize. And yes, they all died at the hands of our kooky Count and his clone army. Not like the Captain minded, since it was like those playboys who use hundred dollar bills to light their cigars, except Magbaredge wasn't a smoker. Like she hasn't even tried the lighter stuff like those electric cigarettes. Your dear narrator wonders how different her psyche would be if she actually got high once in a while instead of directing her habits on the sauce.

"Six new slabs for the pompadour boy!" Orga said on his communicator. "I hope you like them. I cooked them fresh."

"Make sure they don't have the black crust," Sebring said. "I hate it when I put them up on the wall, and there's scarring around the cheeks. Like I thought Earthlings covered their asses well enough to not let such desecration happen. Oh, I've got some guys on the other call, if you don't mind."

"Not at all."

Sebring's Elektris or whatever he calls it when on the crapper burst out more of those electric farts, killing the legendary Nonius and Pleven platoons, best known for fighting in that one city in that one episode. Thanks to that, now Magbaredge will have to dig deeper into her horse encyclopedia for more obscure breeds to name her platoons after.

"Hey," Raffia said. "If you're the ass guy, and Orga's the sea captain guy, then what am I supposed to be?"

Sebring shrugged. "The meta one?"

"No, I'm sure the Earthlings have their own meta guy. I need my own thing so I don't become the third wheel."

"Try to find a niche, Raffia. Like, your name's Raffia, so be into Raffi."

"That's too lazy, that's like pulling off the same joke again and again levels of lazy."

"And what do you call what I'm doing?"

"But that's your prerogative. I want to do my own thing, something other than just being the one girl out of our group."

"But you're our Raffia."

"And do you know what 'Raffia' means? I once looked it up, and I found it was a palm tree. I'm named after a fucking palm tree! What does that say about me?"

"It says you're hot and wet?"

"Argh."

On the other side, Magbaredge was horrified at what the Counts Three were doing. Not that they were killing her soldiers, but that they were using… teamwork to win. Unbeknownst to Raffia's complaints, she just imagined them all being goody-goody to each other and talking about how fun it was to be friends. It made her bite her tongue until she could taste delicious blood. How dare they use friendship to trounce her forces? They'll get no mercy soon.

x x x

And oh yeah, there's also that deal with Princess Robo-Asseylum being up and about instead of on ice like the good lord Slainesus wanted. Sometimes, our savior can never achieve every miracle he wants. Some needy can't be fed, some lepers can't be cured, and some Princesses can't be kept in a coma. How selfish of them.

"The war raged on," Robo-Asseylum said. "And you did not allow me to partake?!"

Eddelrittuo was frantic, but thankful her limbs haven't been dislocated yet. "Mistress, please. We were trying to wake you up."

"You did not try hard enough!"

"We tried! For years, Princess! Then we sort of gave up."

"You gave up in my presence?! How dare you?"

Robo-Asseylum grabbed Eddelrittuo by the throat and squeezed those dwarven veins tightly.

"Bring Slaine Troyard to me."

"He's away on a diplomatic mission, Princess. Or whatever he calls his alone time now, I don't know! Just stop strangling me!"

"Bring Slaine Troyard to me immediately!"

Eddelrittuo would have asked her to say 'please', but she valued life over basic manners. "I'll get him on the communicator if you stop trying to kill me, mistress!"

Robo-Asseylum briefly relaxed her grip, only to throw Eddelrittuo away like a ragdoll. Her servant would have cried from the impact, but she had used up all of her bodily fluids by this point. The Princess walked to the door, preparing to exit and find Slaine herself, only to find herself, herself in a wheelchair, herself in a wheelchair holding a gun.

"What is this?!" Robo-Asseylum demanded.

"Yeah, I don't even know why I decided to dress up as you either, but I thought it would be thematic or whatever."

Lemrina cocked her gun, leading to questions as to why Slaine gave her a gun in the first place. Why did he forget to lock Asseylum's door too? Why did Slaine forgo anything to prevent the two from meeting at all? It's like he asked for a threesome, but wanted it in the dangerous way.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

"Okay, first question, do you know who I am? Does 'Lemrina' ring any bells?"

"No!"

"Huh. Did Slaine tell you anything about what's going on about his evil overlord aspirations?"

"No!"

"Left in the dark just like me, then. Then here's the final question. Want to team up with me so we can both fuck him up for two-timing us?"

"Yes!"

"Good. And oh hey, Dorito's in the back."

Eddelrittuo stopped cowering for a moment and said, "Good day, Princess. Please save me from the Princess."

"Small human female's words are irrelevant!" Robo-Asseylum said.

"First time we met and we already have something in common," Lemrina said. "I think we'll get along well, won't we?"

x x x

Back to the battlefield, Inaho joined the frey to deliver tactical data to his comrades. The problem came from him writing the data in Wingdings and expecting his allies to be fluent in it.

"Come on, Asimo!" Rayet said. "Give us data that's not Illuminati symbols!"

Inaho ignored that request, as he was too focused on discovering the multidimensional enemy behavior in an attempt to deduce their habits. In other words, he was trying to Sherlock the shit out of the baddies. He was too emotionally distant to have a Watson though, or even a Mycroft (suck it, Yuki), and he liked it that way. No one could be Inaho's sidekick because he neither needed nor deserved one.

He looked at the way Sebring was rolling on the ground and said, "I believe that our enemy must be right-handed."

"And that helps us how?" Yuki asked. "Oh wait, don't answer that. Now I remember that one movie again. Damn it."

"We must attack once his electrical charges cease."

"Attack while he's not attacking. Brilliant plan, especially coming from someone I can't see fighting with us right now."

"I will be here shortly."

"When?"

"Now."

A ship appeared above Sebring location and launched Inaho's Sleipnir into the fray. Maybe he was going for the "drop heavy thing and hope it hurts" strategy that many tacticians used throughout the years, Yuki thought.

"Someone thinks they can catch me through the sky," Sebring said. "All they're doing is letting me see their rear from the perfect angle!"

He shot out his lightning at Inaho, but Inaho shot out several rounds, somehow canceling out his current.

"…That hasn't happened before. All have succumbed to my ass, why haven't you?!"

"Special electrical bullets," Inaho said.

"Oh God," Yuki said. "You actually used that one idea."

"And it worked," Nina said while flying the carrier ship away from combat. "You're lucky I don't have extra luggage to drop on you for questioning my ideas. Bitch."

The potential catfight brought attention away from Sebring's anguish over not ensnaring a potential prize. Fortunately, his anguish was cut away by one of Inaho's bullets penetrating his engines, causing them to explode because he also filled his Kataphrakt with methane for the extra detail. He couldn't just half-ass his display, now could he?

"So does that mean I have to be the ass guy now?" Raffia asked while trying to remain incognito from any bullets.

"No," Yuki said. "That means you get to be the dead guy now."

The debris left from Sebring's death created smoke used to pinpoint the Skandia's location, which Yuki used to make her shot.

"Like fucking hell if those are the last words I'll ever h—"

Before she could finish her complaint about Yuki's one liner, she also exploded and made pretty fire everywhere.

"Same action, different reaction, motherfucker!"

"No!" Orga cried from the heavens. "My comrades! Now I'll have to kidnap two other civilians and name them 'Sebring' and 'Raffia'! No!"

The Orga Army appeared to make waste to the Mustang platoon, and whatever remained of the Clydesdale platoon since the last few attacks. Dozens of them hurried to the battlefield like drunken high school football players expecting to get a victory because their coach was the first black coach of their school in history. Orga could even hear the inspirational music pop up in his head when appearing, as if he had a coach who taught him that he could be a good player and a good student all at once.

He also decided to have hammers on every Ortygia, because it isn't enough to punch your opponents. You had to whack them to make sure the damage would really stick.

x x x

Slaine heard news that two Counts were already killed in action, riling him up into a semi-stiffie. Angry hardons were the worst. Ask your substitute teacher about that. It had been a while since the Count-killometer updated, so it'll give Harklight something to actually do with his life by flipping the '16 days since' card to '0 days since'.

To facilitate the oceans of his worries, he went back to the lounge to see how Lemrina was doing. Maybe she'll be docile like a hamster this time, but Slaine had never seen a hamster in his life, so he wasn't the best person to ask for this comparisons.

The doors slid open to make way for his presence. He said, "Hey, Princess. The conquest is getting some bumps, but I hope that you're doing all right."

"Con… quest?" the Princess said.

"Yes, conquest, or a campaign, if you will."

"You did not inform me?"

"I did, like an hour ago. You don't remember, Lemrina?"

The Princess softened her brow. "Slaine Troyard, I am aware that Asseylum Vers Allusia has risen."

"You know that."

"Yes!"

"Shit, I was hoping for it to be a surprise. Like you think your sister's dead, but after the wedding, you suddenly find out she's alive and we can have a happy honeymoon with the three of us. Sucks that got spoiled."

"Your speech patterns have deteriorated, Slaine Troyard."

"What do you mean?"

"You do not communicate like you did in the past."

"But that's poppycock. I'm the same old Slaine, just wearing a red coat and… saying words I don't recall knowing the definitions of a week ago. And I suddenly have thoughts for this dead woman named Orlane, but I'm still the Slaine you've always known! Now just forget that Asseylum's still alive, because she's still recovering. I still need you to impersonate her so the Counts will still think she's around to be our beacon for the new world."

"New world?"

"Yes, one free of worry, of everlasting peace, without conflict and without sadness, but with tons of orgy porgies."

The Princess was unamused.

"And I want Asseylum to rule it, you can rule it by the sidelines, but she'll be the one calling the shots. It's strong, intelligent women that will create my new world, and you two will be my meal tickets to that ride."

"Slaine Troyard, do you understand how wars start?"

"Oh yeah, a means of negotiation between states, but with arms instead of words!"

"Incorrect! Wars start due to the primal need for invasion and assimilation!"

"Lemrina, you're the one not sounding like yourself right now."

"Do not shift your problems to me again, Slaine Troyard. You promote a war but without the joys of subjugation to show for it?"

"I'd ask you to take a chill pill, but you probably already take a dozen to keep your bitchitis from acting up the way it does now."

The Princess growled and stood up, much to Slaine's attempt to show shock. He was having a bad day, and he just caught some of his ensigns playing Twister, so nothing could really surprise him right now.

Too bad the Princess turned off her disguise to reveal she was Robo-Asseylum all this time, actually surprising Slaine and letting him move his mouth muscles for once. Just to emphasize the madness, the real Lemrina appeared nearby, almost like Slaine probably should have noticed two wheelchair princesses in the same room if he knew better.

"Wait, you're supposed to be back in bed."

She pulled out the gun Lemrina gave her and aimed it at Slaine, wanting to take control of this war after seeing Slaine's excuse of a campaign crash in front of him.

"You have failed me, Slaine Troyard."

"I was only following your whims, Asseylum. I was just—"

"Exterminate!"

"No, wait. I have something to say."

Robo-Asseylum was about to pull the trigger when she realized it didn't make a noise. It didn't do anything after she pulled it, not even blanks.

"What I was about to say is that the gun I gave to Lemrina for safety was a toy gun."

"Really?" Lemrina asked.

"I thought giving you a real gun would probably raise the risk of you getting shot because I'm not so sure about your aiming. Looks like I was right to underestimate you."

"Then stand down," Robo-Asseylum said. "Stand down and face trial for your insolence, Slaine Troyard!"

"Oh, I can't obey that order, sweetie. And guess why? Because I'm no longer a citizen of the Vers Empire."

Everyone went 'what?' at his declaration. Even the lounge let out audible confusion. Harklight probably blurt some confusion, which wouldn't be awkward given he was Harklight.

"As of today, I am neither Martian nor Earthling. I reject your planets and replace them with my own body. Yes, my body is now a planet, orbited by the many moons of my hair follicles and so forth. I am now a natural born citizen from the planet Slaine, population one and possibly growing. Fear me."

"You're about as fearsome as my leggings," Lemrina said.

"Seriously, fear me."

"I do not fear you!" Robo-Asseylum declared.

"Come on, fear me. I'm fearable, especially when I pull off something like this!"

As Slaine waved his hand at the door, it slid open again to let some guards in, who were just as confused as the Princesses were.

"Guards, take these girls away from my sight. They are committing sedition against the Planet of Slaine!"

After a second of not knowing what their lord was on about, they decided to comply and take Lemrina and Robo-Asseylum away.

"Yes," the Saazbiote said within him. "You're embracing the power I've given you."

"I'm taking it for my own, dad. And you can't stop me!"

"Sure, sure, feast on the fruits I have given you through becoming more powerful in death than in life. Suckle on my teats until you can mature into a true Saazbaum!"

"Yes, father. I will drink from your breasts!"

"Good, as long as some inconvenient spanner appears, we shall rule all two, no three planets together!"

x x x

Father-son internal bonding time had to be interrupted by the latest news in Orga Seige 20-whenever-you're-reading-this. The hordes of Ortygias had surrounded the Mustang platoon, preventing any opening. The Earth forces could always climb back on the Deucalion and fly away to safety, but retreating is worse than dying. That is the Orga way.

"Shit, it's our doom," Magbaredge said. "I thought we were supposed to kill the host Kataphrakt."

"We did, Captain," Nina said, still on her carrier ship but on the communicator to maintain petty squabbles with her best fiend. "They kept popping up anyway."

"That's cheating! Only I'm allowed to cheat in this war."

"Inaho's on the line, Captain."

"Let us hear what our prodigal child has for us."

Inaho went on the line and said, "Captain Magbaredge, the Ortygia utilizes Quantum teleportation to mai—"

"Boring! And probably scientifically impossible, but mostly boring!'

"Captain," Nina said. "That could've saved our lives."

"Yeah, but if you wanted to hear about science, then why didn't you stay in Japanese school instead of come here with me?"

"Because the Martians blew it up, Captain."

"Then you could've changed schools, especially since someone named 'Nina Klein' could totally fit in with the rest of those Asians. By the way, what language did you speak in those schools?"

"Japanese, Captain."

"And what language are you speaking right now?"

"…I don't know, Captain."

"Yeah, I don't know either! What language are we speaking right now?!"

"It's probably English," Mizusaki said. "Why are we freaking out over that when we're getting rushed?"

"Oh, that's easy for you to say when you get to be Asian, and now as many languages as you can because you're smart!"

"I failed Spanish like twice though."

"Well, you're a shame upon your family then for not knowing the language of my proud people."

"You're not Mexican, Magbaredge."

"My people that I will eventually own when I rule this Earth with my bare hands! But it won't be like slavery, because they'll come crawling into my hands consensually. It'll be human ownership with consent."

If only Magbaredge had a Spanish or Latin soldier in her midst to hear her right now, or just anyone who's sensitive to the idea of slavery.

Mizusaki thought about it and said, "Thinking about it, what race are you?"

"The best race."

"And that is?"

"Not the crackers. Like the actual best race."

With that continuing off in the distance, Inaho was focusing on how to handle the Orgas. He knew that thanks to Quantum teleportation, they were all real. He had to kill them all in one huge attack to make sure Orga wouldn't have time to create a new body. Of course, this plan would not work if Orga hid a clone under a rock to maintain his immortality, but Inaho was under the assumption the Count wouldn't be intelligent enough to do that.

Rayet's Kataphrakt was acting up. So was Inko's, and Yuki's, and Marito's. Calm's would have, but no one trusted Calm with a Kataphrakt. They were all aiming their guns at the Ortygias in a sort of synchronized shooting.

"I was right," Marito said. "My own robot's trying to kill me!"

"Don't be stupid," Yuki said. "Inaho just hacked all of our Kataphrakts."

"Your kid's trying to kill me!"

They all shot at the Ortygia, hitting every one since Count Orga had the decency to only make as many clones as there were enemies on the field. The smoke cleared, and the Earth forces could see the Ortygias all standing still with holes in their chests. They exploded, because it wouldn't be satisfying if they didn't.

What a wonder that Inaho managed to hit all of his targets at such precise timing. It almost compensated for the internal bleeding going on in his eye right now.

"Boy," Magbaredge said. "What a battle that was!"

"People died," Mizusaki said.

"And wasn't that cool?"

"Our people, Magbaredge."

"Your point being?"

"Christ."

A surprise radar somewhere on the ship brought the noise to the entire bridge.

"Congratulations on beating your latest Count!" the noise said.

"Oh hey," Magbaredge asked. "It's my good friend Vice Admiral Eelis Hakkinen!"

"That's right, Darzie! For getting triple kill in a single battle, I award you with a special mission!"

"To the moon?"

"No, even higher than that! Good luck, girl!"

"You too!"

The radar shut off, letting Magbaredge catch her breath and say 'twat' under her breath.

"Magbaredge," Mizusaki said. "What did that guy mean?"

"It means we're going… into darkness!"

There's a reason why Magbaredge's brother died, and it was to prevent him hearing that.

x x x

Count Orga got out of his cockpit and brushed the debris off of his coat, saying, "You call that a full frontal assault? I'll show you what it means to get shot up in every nook and—"

I AM AFRAID YOU WILL NOT SHOW ANYONE ANYTHING AT THE MOMENT, a voice next to him said.

Orga turned his head to see who was speaking. His eyes grew bright with horror. "Oh shit, it's you! Don't take me for afraid or any of that. I just, I thought you'd look different, like a dashing lass with pink hair off to send me to Valhalla."

IN ANOTHER REALM, YOU WOULD BE CORRECT.

"Can I get that one?"

NO.

"Barnacles! And damned clones couldn't do the job I expected them to. What should I expect from faulty AI?"

YOU FAULT ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE FOR YOUR GENUINE STUPIDITY?

"Oi, I wasn't stupid. I just made a mistake, and I can probably fix that mistake if you give me some slack.

I CANNOT BARGAIN IN THAT.

"Come on. Can't I stay for a little while, at least get my haunting spree on those who killed me and my mates?"

THERE ARE COUNTLESS SOULS WHO WOULD WISH THE SAME ON YOU. WHY SHOULD YOUR REQUEST BE GRANTED WHEN THEIRS WASN'T?

"Because I've spent decades on the warfront. All those years, and I don't even get a tiny chance to bite back? That's not fair! That's not even close to equivalent of what my life's work deserves!"

AT LEAST YOU HAVE AN UNDERSTANDING OF THE NATURAL ORDER. COME WITH ME IF YOU WANT TO SEE ULTIMATE EQUIVALENCE.

"All right, then. I do feel light on my feet; do you have rum in your place? I could use some rum. I want to get drunk, and crunk, and something that ends with –runk that starts with a letter between C and D that I came up with just now. You know, saying this all with a straight face, does this make me drier than you? And you're bones, so you're drier than my loins right now. So do I get my virgins? I slept through an Islamic course once, and I think that counts enough to be part of the brotherhood, right? Give me the Muslim benefits! Hey, talk to me for once…"

Not answering his demand, the specter pulled Orga away from the battlefield, away from all of this madness and into a world where he could feel a bit warmer.

"Whatever the case, I'll miss 'dis world."

x x x

"Three Counts dead," Slaine said, brooding in his office as usual. "Three fucking Counts dead."

Harklight walked up and said, "Yeah, eight down, or six if you don't count the ones you killed."

"Was Yacoym a Count?"

"No."

"I could have sworn he was."

"Well at least we still have Count Keteratesse to send at the Earthlings."

"But he has a pig nose."

"And?"

"That means he'll be worthless in battle. Because he's not hot."

"He's got the slanty eyes though. And you need the slanty eyes to be a true Count, unlike Mazuurek."

"So you planning to be a Count?"

"But I don't know what to do with castles."

"But you could have your own soldiers doing your—"

Slaine realized the consequences of Harklight having his own minions, and cut what he was saying to stop that from enchanting his underling.

"Laundry?"

"Yeah, let's go with that."

"Yay, I don't like doing my laundry because it means touching my tighty-whities."

"Um, yeah."

"Being a Count would be effin' neato then."

"I'm sure people will follow someone who has 'neato' in their vocabulary."

"Sure they would, because I'll make them follow me. Just like how you're making the Princesses follow you."

Slaine tried to shrug, but his past emotions got in the way of being truly aloof. "It's not that I'm making them follow me. I just want them to come to an understanding to what I want."

"I'm not too sure they can reach that point when I heard Lemrina singing 'Inslaine in the Membrane' when I brought you up once."

"Look, it's always a slow process when these things happen, but I'm sure in a few weeks, Lemrina and Asseylum will agree with everything I say from here on out. The clamps will be sure to make them change their minds."

"Oh yeah, um, Slaine?"

"What, Harklight?"

"I forgot to mention something in particular. Something important, since you were too busy talking about the Princesses."

"Is it something involving your latest Happy Meal or—"

"No, Count Klinklang is planning a meeting with you."

"Count… Klinklang? Who?"

"Oh, you didn't hear? He's the newest Count. You might be familiar with his full name, Count Klinklang Cruhteo. Don't let his name fool you, because he's extra tender thanks to the modifications Barry made to the formula."

"Extra tender?"

"Yeah, he looks pretty young. A bit illegal, if I should say so. He's still taller, so that speaks poorly on your diet. You need to up your milk intake, Slaine!"

Again, Slaine could touch upon fear. In due time, he'll have to talk to the son of the man who shamed him in front of a camera, and who didn't have chips in his hair. Mary was just practice for the real course. This would be the perfected clone he'll face, the Uber-Cruhteo on the loose.

"Ha ha", he thought. "I'm doomed."

Harklight tried to show him a picture of the purple eggplant ship preparing to board, but Slaine kept pushing the screen away like it was food and his eyes were baby mouths.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The Starship Eggplant entered Marineros, recently moved to the moon thanks to recent discrepancies. Despite its recent construction and unskilled piloting, it made a smooth landing onto the docking bay, almost as if its lord was a veteran in the arts. Maybe some Earthlings could learn a thing or two from these people.

"Okay," the Captain said to everyone, but especially to the Count on board. "The floor's ready. Get a move on, Klinklang."

"You're not gonna call me Count?" he asked.

"You gotta earn it. Gaining a title because your clone dad had one, that means nothing. If it did, we'd give noble titles to all your clone brothers and clone sisters."

"So how do I earn it?"

"You gotta show resolve. Don't just be 'I'm the boss'. Be like 'Yes ma'am, I'm the motherfucking boss, now shove that tip up my g-string'. That's the level of authority a true Count has, when he can get tips just by asking."

"…I'm not sure that's what a Count does."

"Oh, but it is. A Count learns to kneel like the daintiest maid and gyrate on their customer like-a those blobs in a lava lamp."

"Like-a?"

"Yeah, like-a. I sometimes slip into a cheap poor man's Italian voice. Any matter with that, boy?"

"No, just confused. Very, very confused."

"Well don't be confused, 'cause I'm showing you the trade of being a Count. Now when being a Count, you gotta have thighs that must be deemed to be 'glorious'. They must be godly legs that you can only find in a department store catalogue. Or a nursing home. Same thing."

Klinklang looked at the rest of the crew and said, "Is anybody else following this? Like is anybody going to call the Captain out on telling to be a stripper?"

"Stripping? No, it's Counting. Stripping is when you go to Parliament and decree laws and shit. That's a blue-collar job, or yellow-collar if the Parliament's in the mood for a special shower. A Counting's a ritual that only the noblest of men can muster to accomplish without scrutiny."

"That sounds sil—"

"Now hold on, hold on, I'm trying to lecture you on being a proper Count, and you keep ignoring it? That's why I can't consider you a real Count yet, because you don't acknowledge the proper trade."

"I'm not going to do a lap dance to prove I'm a Count!"

"See, see, that right there, see, is why Slaine-papa won't look at you eye-to-eye. He's gonna look at you eye-to-manboobie because you don't give enough of a challenge. But it's okay on that front, 'cause you got some firm boobies. Firmer than any teenage boy who's actually a clone baby that just got pooped out a day ago. These are better than any genetically modified manboobies I've touched, and believe me, 'cause I've copped a feel off of Barry, Mary, and their stillborn brother Sherry. Latter's case was that the manbooby had pus and even one grab would peel the skin off. Was a most unpleasant sight, but you? You've got prime manboobies. A man could squeeze them and think they were from a carseat."

Klinklang waved his hand around the Captain's eyes to see if he was still aware he left the conversation, but got no conclusive results. Groaning, he left the ship and didn't even care if guards were around to help him, they were probably just as crazy as their boss. Klinklang Cruhteo was not in the mood for any more crazy talk.

x x x

"The Ultimate Clone!" Harklight yelled into Slaine's ear. "We're facing the perfect being in a few minutes, Slaine!"

"Why didn't you tell me beforehand?" Slaine asked. "You could've told me—"

"I did."

"No, before that."

"That was when I found out. I was going to tell you immediately, but you were off talking about the Princesses again, and my mind went off track, so I decided to talk about laundry to make my brain start thinking again."

Slaine rolled his eyes, but thanks to lack of the activity in the past few weeks, they overcompensated by rolling so fat that Harklight could only see blurry blue circles revolving his lord's face.

"Slaine, you appear to be having a stroke. Or a seizure. Or a strokzure, like if you wanted to spell 'structure' with cool letters."

"Shut up, Harklight. I'm trying to figure out a plan to reel Klinklang in. But first off, who is he and what does he want? I can't get a new pawn if I don't know the specs."

"Yeah, about that, Barry wanted to make a new Cruhteo clone thanks to Mary dying, he was looking everywhere for some codes, but then he found them, so he went to the ranch and hastily made a new clone. But it wouldn't be like another Mary, since Mary was a douche. Barry made some augmentations into the clone so he'd become better, stronger, and maybe sexier, but I wouldn't know."

"So a super-clone?"

"Yeah, Barry edited his genome with some whale DNA so he could deliver more pack to his punches."

"But whales can't punch."

"They could if they had hands."

"Okay, but what about intelligence? Is he smarter than the average clone? Will I expect something dangerous? And oh God, why am I asking you on how intelligent someone is?"

"I heard from the Captain that he's a bit slow. He has this mental disability the Earthlings used to refer to as 'common sense'."

"Is there a chance we can purge that out of him?"

"No, those with 'common sense' are terminal cases, I'm afraid."

"Goddamn it. That means it'll be a harder sell to sweep him into the Slainedom."

"The Slainedom?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm calling my new empire."

"But empires aren't kingdoms."

"It will be with some sprucing."

"And that's such an odd pun, 'Slainedom'. I'm trying to think up a name for my empire right now."

"That's nice, Harklight."

"What about 'The Order of the Harklight Knights'? Or 'Monarchlight'? Or—"

"You're not going to get your own empire, Harklight."

"Why not? You're getting one, and you're the second shortest person here."

"It doesn't matter that I'm short, Harklight."

"That's what short people say. Tall people don't make those excuses, because they know better."

"Harklight, I don't need that talk when Klinklang's coming to visit."

"But he's taller than you, and you're his senpai. How can you be a senpai when you're a semi-midget?"

"Harklight, no."

"Being a little short is worse than being extremely short, I suppose. When being a dwarf, you get perks like being confused for a mythological creature. When you're just five feet and six—"

"Five feet and seven."

"You just get odd looks, like puberty only gave you a little of your earnings instead of the full sum. You become the kind of guy who plays teenagers in teen dramas even when you're thirty, and nobody wants to touch those people except teenage girls. And with those eyes of yours, it's almost as if Bird Jesus made you specifically to cater to the ladies."

"What was that?"

"It's almost as if God made you specifically to cater to the ladies."

Slaine wished he could slap Harklight, but he once lost in an arm wrestling match with him, so he couldn't take any chances. He tried practicing with Eddelrittuo, but that only results in more shame brought to his shards of dignity.

x x x

At Parnassos Base, the Deucalion docked to arrange their gambit against the Martians on the moon. To make sure he wouldn't butt in and come up with something logical, higher-ups made Magbaredge strap Inaho onto a bed with no way of getting out. They didn't want any of his ideas, because they weren't silly enough for the Earthling way. Little did they know that Inaho already hacked part of Parnassos Base to record their plans, and keep them to himself so he can eventually lord it over to the Admirals on how wrong they were. Besides, he liked the feel of being confined to a bed. It felt like being tucked in to sleep, against your will.

While he was pretending to rest, Vice Admiral Hakkinen gathered all of the officials to his secret chambers. He put years of time to maintain his base, a pillow fort with duct tape to maintain the illusion that it was an actual military fortress instead of something he made in his bedroom. To him, the base had the stern military quality while also allowing for sleepovers wrapped up in one. He remembered playing 'spin the bottle' once during a past meeting, but he kissed Magbaredge once and tasted copper.

"Time to end this!" the Vice Admiral said to his underling Captains. If they interrupted him, he could take off their Captain's hat and stomp on it just like that. "I just figured out yesterday that the Martians had a moonbase all this time."

"You didn't know about that?" Magbaredge asked.

"I thought it was on the Satellite Belt! Excuse me for not keeping track of all the enemy locations like you probably are, you geek."

"Sir, I am many things, but I am no fucking geek."

"I remember when you were shoved in a locker once."

"That was a meat locker!"

"Yeah, a meat locker, and you were the meat, you geek."

"At least I'm not a dork like you, Eelis."

"Hey, that's Vice Admiral Eelis."

"Who even names their Eelis? That has 'eel' in the name, so I keep thinking about the sexy ass eels they use for porn."

"Of course you would know that, you probably the star in one of those."

"There are only so many aquatic creatures that go up my vagina, and eels aren't one of them!"

"You could probably put a pufferfish up your cooch, and he'd be the one getting poisoned."

Magbaredge screamed. Somewhere in her prison-bedroom, Mizusaki was smiling.

"Ow, the Magbaredge! Now anyway, back to my master plan that you all have to follow if you don't want to die! That includes you, Darzie."

Magbaredge could say something, but she chose not to. Once again, Mizusaki would have relished this moment if only she were here.

"Okay, my secret plan. My super secret plan! I know that the Princess probably has a shelter on her moonbase, and a normal general would want to carpet bomb it, but because gravity hates us, we can't do that. Instead, we got to go inside the moonbase, into Asseylum's shelter, to snuff that bitch."

"Why would we kill the Princess?" Captain Clyde asked in his brief moment of sobriety. "That's the whole reason why this war started."

"Hey, if they want to keep calling us Princess-killers, we'll prove we're Princess-killers. First, we'll kill her, then unkill her for a few moments so we can broadcast her second death on Martian TV. We'll be like terrorists, but cool."

Captain Clyde popped one of his tooth caps to let out a secret supply of gin rush into his mouth.

"But because the Landing Castle that twatty short kid owns will strike if we make our move, we have to make a two-pronged attack on both the base and the castle. We have to diversify our war bonds, if you insist on the proper terminology. Now the Breton Company and the Deucalion will split off to attack those two sumbitches on 10 o'clock. Which 10 o'clock, you might ask? The Eastern European one, because Finnish 10 o'clock is the only 10 o'clock in my heart!"

"Blat blabout blasteroids?" asked another official.

"That's good! We'll throw asteroids if we run out of bullets! Yeah, we'll use what nature gave us to murder some Martians! Oh just before I forget, the mission is called Operation: Luna Gate. I was gonna call it Luma Gate because that's who I maining at the moment, but my mom told me to stop shoving my interests in my missions. Fucking mom telling her 60-year-old son what he can and can't do with his missions. I almost want to move out of her space apartment now."

"I need to step my game up," Magbaredge thought. "How can I be an overlord if I can't manage the level of crazy this guy's bringing? Maybe I'll shove a marker up my nose so I can get that genuine shade of cray-cray Hakkinen's showing. Or ask Nina to hit me on the head. Or even better, ask Nina to shoot me in the head. It can hit the part of my brain that thinks rationally, meaning that the brain damage will turn into brain improve-amage. Both could work."

x x x

At the lounge slash prison, the Princesses killed time by staring at chairs and glaring at their Eddelrittuo. All things considered, this was better than what their initial idea of imprisonment seemed, but it's still imprisonment under Slaine's rule, and that is a status worse than death.

"You know," Lemrina said to her dear sister. "You could've killed Slaine by clawing his throat or whatever."

"Slaine Troyard trimmed my nails beforehand!" Robo-Asseylum said.

"Then you couldn't go for some strangling? A strangling usually works."

"This weak body is useless for physical combat!"

"Well you could've done something to hurt Slaine. Poke his eyes, maybe? At least something other than just standing there and letting the guards take us away."

"You underestimate what I am capable of!"

"Yeah, like screaming. I definitely underestimated how loud you were."

"Do you dare insult your Princess?!"

"Yeah, because all of this would have gone smoothly if you kept yourself in a coma. I could have married Slaine. We could have conquered Earth. It would've been great. You didn't even have to be in a permanent coma, you could've just woken up a few weeks later, not immediately after I announced the wedding plan!"

"You demand me to stay in the sidelines while you bask in my glory?!"

"What glory? This entire war started because you were too stupid to know not to go to Earth! All those dead people at New Orleans are on you, girl."

"Yes, credit belongs to me! I have the blood of millions on my tendrils and you have none!"

"…You know that's supposed to be bad, right?"

"Bad that you have failed to kill any undesirables!"

"Okay, I thought you were against that kind of thing. Why are you suddenly all 'crush kill destroy' now?"

"Cybernetics!"

"God, you make the Asseylum I was pretending to be come off like a real person."

"Reality is meaningless to your Princess!"

"Where's Dorito? I thought she was here with us. I guess she's hiding because of your loudmouth decimating any eardrums within a mile's radius of your mouth."

"My mouth is glorious!"

"Your mouth's the reason why we're here!"

"Exactly! That is why it's glorious!"

x x x

"So the Vice Admiral wants us to do a two-pronged attack on both the moon and Spay's castle."

Magbaredge wanted the utmost attention from her Deucalion crew, though the lack of maintenance on the air supply meant no one really noticed anything from that sentence except for 'prong'. It made Rayet want some prawns to eat. Why weren't there prawns on the ship?

"Captain," Rayet asked. "When are we getting our seafood on?"

"Yeah," Mizusaki said. "I want food. Give me food, Mags."

"Food is for those who work!" Magbaredge said.

"But you don't work, and you get to eat."

"I work in the mental optics way, Mizusaki. I work on a different dimension from the rest of you mortals, like while I'm standing here barking out orders, an alternate dimension version of me is out there saving universes and getting hoes."

"And you know that, how?"

"Because I imagine it! And when I imagine it, it's real! Just like the alternate dimension where you're my shoeshiner and muffmuncher."

"Stop going there, Mags."

"And what gives you the right to call me 'Mags'? Do I look like a 'Mags' to you?"

"You look like a 'Rags' to me."

"The only thing raggedy is your lady parts when you're done with a round with me."

"Yeah, because your vagina's like sandpaper."

"My vagina's as smooth as the baby it'll never pop out because I'm pro-abortion."

"You assume a baby would want to live in your womb long enough to get aborted."

"They would! My womb is like a sacred palace."

"Getting into your womb would be too easy."

"Not as easy as getting in your womb!"

This vagina discussion put fear in Marito's mind yet again, because he remembered that one time sentient vaginas killed his one friend during the First Martian war. He could remember playing strip poker with his friend Jose only to see him get torn apart by a serial cervix, his bloody shreds gulped down by those monstrous muffs. These would haunt Marito forever, just like how everything in existence haunted him.

"Show of hands," Magbaredge said. "Who would touch Mizusaki's vagina? Even with a ten foot pole, who would touch her down there?"

No one moved. Calm considered raising his hand, but realized how dumb it would look if he was the only one.

"See! No one would touch your cooter, Mizusocky!"

"And raise hands if you would touch the Captain's pussy."

Still, no one moved. Nina was about to raise her hand, but was too tired to care.

"Come on!" Magbaredge said. "I'm the Captain, it's your duty to touch my vagina if you're told to!"

Marito fell to the ground and cried again.

"This guy's the exception, because he can't handle womanhood unless it's two-dimensional."

x x x

To prepare for Count Klinklang, Slaine made sure to maximize the space of his office by adding several square feet. Despite Harklight saying that they can't just add more area to a spacecraft, Slaine stopped caring about modern pseudo-engineering. He forced the Martian contractors to renovate the office, making it look like something a homeless man would consider sleeping on instead of the previous cesspool. It was still covered in chrome though, since Harklight's suggestions to put rainbows and happy clouds on the walls were heavily denied. Harklight chose not to grieve, because he would be sure to get those designs on his own castle, which would have more colors than there were casualties of the ongoing war.

"Here's my wall," Slaine said to his guest as they walked up. "And there's my wall. There's the wall Harklight adopted. There's my poster of Pink Floyd's The Wall, edited to match the other walls. And there's—"

"Enough," Klinklang said, already exasperated by Slaine as it was. "I didn't come here to talk to you about walls."

"Yeah, you came here to win."

Klinklang sat down on the wall-colored chair. "So I congratulate you for becoming a Count."

"And the same to you, it must be so hard for one of your people to attain such a position."

"…My people are the same as your people though."

"Oh, what made you think I was a clone? I'm my own original person, do not steal!"

Slaine chuckled, much to Klinklang's confusion and slight horror.

"Speaking of… my heritage, I never got to know my father. How was he?"

"He was fiiiiine! He was like the third father I never had! I would not be the man today if not for him, no sir."

"Are you sure? Because from what Barry told me, he was abusive."

"Those abuses were abuses of fatherly pride! Spare the rod and—"

"Spoil the child. I know. Though quite frankly, I feel blessed to not go through that sort of adolescence."

"That's because you have no coming-of-aging to speak of, my dear boy!"

"Yeah, I can see what that does to a young man. Now let's go to more important matters, like Princess Asseylum. I heard she was under dire conditions."

"No, she's fine!"

"Then can I see her?"

"No, because she's sick."

"But you just said she was fine."

"I meant it in a metaphorical way, like that she's fine because she's not dead."

"That's not what 'metaphorical' means."

"It is when you walk in my Landing Castle!"

Klinklang would have sipped some tea on the wall-colored table, but looked to find the tea's texture was also the color of fresh chrome. This was completely unlike the Slaine Troyard he read about mere weeks ago. While others would see this new Slaine as an improvement, Klinklang was genuinely worried for the young lord.

"Um, I would still want to talk to Princess Asseylum if I'm allowed to."

"And you aren't!"

"But there's something difficult I have to relay to her."

"About your clone heritage?"

"That her grandfather's condition is getting worse. We checked all of the medical databases, but there's nothing that can cure being a seventy-year-old man on Mars."

"Cool."

"…Did you just say it's 'cool' that our Emperor's dying?"

An alert siren blared through their office, saving Slaine from having to explain his disloyalty to the throne.

"The rock clusters are exhibiting unnatural behavior!" Lieutenant Dog-Eyes said on the communicator. "The asteroids are moving, and they're scaring me!"

"Oh shit," Slaine said.

"You didn't answer my question," Klinklang said.

"And I don't need to anymore! Now go to safety, and I'll unleash the Stygis squadron on those rock bastards!"

x x x

Before the United Earth Forces could make their grand assault upon the Moon, Captain Darzana Magbaredge wrote down a brief speech to rile up her troops. Unfortunately, she didn't have enough time to arrange yet another meeting, prompting her to blare her speech out in each and every individual cockpits.

"It is true that we…" she said before stumbling. "Have had our differences throughout the two years we spent together."

"No shit," Rayet said.

"I know that the war has made us all commit sacrifices, some meaningful to the war, some completely senseless and made no progress to the effort whatsoever. But does that matter now? Yes, but that's for if we survive this mission. The latest calculations said that we have a 12% chance of making it all back… dead. But don't let that comfort you, at least one of us will die. And it'll probably be the one we actually like. So go out there, kill some Martian bastards, and make sure they don't kill our favorite character… on this ship!"

"Were all of those ellipses really necessary, Captain?" Nina asked.

"Yeah, ellipses bring out the dramatic tension, like it makes people wonder what words comes next."

"You were wasting precious time organizing the troops, Captain."

"And where else would that time go, Nina? If I didn't waste that time, someone else would have!"

"Just activate the damn transformation mode, Captain."

"Oh yeah, I forgot we had that."

She pushed a button on her chair, revealing the Deucalion's final form: A trebuchet. The ship unfolded and let its hind legs stretch out, using rocket fuel in place of a counterweight, and the Aldnoah drive in place of any semblance of gravity. Seeing it transform was like seeing a eunuch flash the unsuspecting public, unsettling yet disappointing.

"Okay, single fine, one by one, wait your turn before I throws you into enemy territory!"

The Clydesdale platoon forced their way on the throwing arm's palm, waiting for the Magbaredge's iron fist to hurl them into the slightly more inviting path to certain death. She flung them into war like someone flicking phlegm off of their nose. There was no emotional weight, because a Captain could not afford to get too emotionally attached to a soldier who could potentially die without doing anything to their name. Also, she didn't want too many things keeping her mind away from the wedding in a few weeks, especially since the wedding lost any illusion of consent.

Before every Clydesdale delinquent could fully process their near-moon landing, the latest incarnation of the Stygis squadron intercepted, hoping to have a lifespan of more than two minutes this round. Both sides wanted to live this time, or at least whatever someone could refer to as living in this hellish universe. It's not hellish because of all the death going on, but because of the lack of anything outside of the death. Like where are the different perspectives on the latest battle that's not from the military or from royalty? Maybe there's a message to this battle, and it's that the only way to have your voice heard is when you have to power to kill countless people in your dainty hands, or if you came from aristocratic sperm.

But who cares about who is allowed to talk when you've got purple bullets sending some Stygis troops into fluffy Martian hell? Having run out of actual ammo a long time ago, the Clydesdale platoon decided to use some purple goop they found in the fridge a few days ago since it had as much density as a real bullet. Thanks to that quick maneuver, they got five more kills than they would have had if they only resorted to firing blanks. While they were having fun shooting projectiles made out of whateverobtainum, agents without Kataphrakts or even basic armor flew to the moon in search for the moonbase. They didn't complain though, because they got to have free jetpacks.

"Fuck yeah," Magbaredge said. "Now it's our turn to be monsters of the week! With a gimmicky giant robot! We get to be the ones randomly besieging some bitches and not the other way around!"

Nina groaned. "They can't even hear you, Captain."

"Dramatical emphasis, Nina. Jesus."

"It'll all amount to nothing if you spend more time on yelling and less time captaining or whatever you're supposed to do, Captain."

"'Captaining'?"

"Yeah, Captain."

"You seriously said that? I thought I was supposed to be the nutty one in the relationship, Nina. You can outnut me. You outnut me, and this pairing will wreck worlds instead of owning them."

"'Captaining' is a real word, Captain. Realer than 'dramatical' anyway."

"Just because it's real doesn't mean it's not stupid."

"Did that air deprivation make you tipsy, Cap-cap?"

"No it did not, little woman. You're the one with brain problems, not me! No no no! Now if you keep questioning my patience, Imma spank your ass for insubordination and let everyone on the moon know what a bad little girl you've been, hahaha."

"That's naughty, Capitan. I'll report you to Hockeynan if you keep embarrassing my minge like that!"

It would be important to note now that the trebuchet is commonly used nowadays for recreational purposes instead of any serious matter. The only brawls you're likely to see with these weapons around usually involve keggers.

But some soldiers didn't have beer in mind for this assault. Some couldn't even drink at all without frying their circuits, and that was our beloved killjoy of the Mustang platoon going to the moonbase alongside the agents. Like them, he was searching for the Princess. Not to kill though, that would be too kind for someone the likes of her. No, something inside Inaho needed something out of the Princess that didn't involve bloodshed, and that worried the boy more than anything else in this life did. Yes, it worried him than when he burnt eggs once. And yes, that's still a joke no matter how long it's been since Inaho last cooked anything. Overused jokes are the soul of the pointless wars. Without them, wars would be stupider than they already were.

x x x

"Come on! First person who shoots the Princess gets to have a name!"

The agents ran through the moonbase's halls, searching for something fluffy and white with a yellow ball of yarn on the top. This wasn't a question on if they'll end this war once and for all, but when. It's almost as if there were a countdown right on the top of their vision telling them there was about an hour of screentime until everything would be hastily resolved. The real question, however, lay in who would finish this story, and who would get the prize of being relevant.

It wasn't these guys, because Vers guards intercepted them. The entire squad died within five seconds, causing virtually no damage to the other side at all. What's worse was they weren't even a major squadron among the infiltrators, meaning their chances of doing anything of importance was already low to start with.

"Good," Slaine said, watching the assassins die on his cameras. "My plan is all coming together."

"Your plan was to get invaded by enemies?" Harklight asked.

"No, my plan was to stop them."

"That's everybody's plan when they get invaded, Slaine. What was the other plan, letting them take our base and pillage our women?"

"Stopping them was also part one of the plan, Harklight."

"Then what does it effin' lead to?"

"To… something! Your mind wouldn't be able to understand it."

"I understand things, like you potentially failing and letting us all die, or worse."

"But wouldn't that be great, Harklight? To die in glorious fire like a Viking ship making its last assault?"

"No, I like living."

"Well poopoo to that, good sir!"

As he said that, Slaine grew some wrinkles while parts of his hair temporarily became brown. The transformation was almost reaching its peak, much to the previous Slaine's dismay.

"Oh yeah, the Princesses also like living. That's why I asked to move to a super duper prison."

"Which is where?"

"I told them to move to a bunker."

"We don't have a bunker."

"Not even a basement or anything?"

"No, Harklight."

"Oh… then they're seriously screwed."

"So they're out of the lounge? You took away the one—"

"Two."

"Two points of leverage we had to bring the Vers Empire down to my knees? Do you even know where they are now?"

"I could call the guards, who might be dead by now."

"That's not helping, Harklight!"

"Hey, I'm not the one who imprisoned them in the first place."

Slaine's phone started ringing, much to his surprise. Phone calls to Slaine were as rare as a blue moon, and seeing their moon was already in chunks…

Slaine picked it up, and heard an unexpected voice.

"I hear that you're in need of assistance," Barry said, munching on something orange and triangular.

"No shit, Moran. Now get your purple people eater of a Kataphrakt in here!"

"Don't worry, I have much to lose as you do if your base falls."

"I know about the Princesses and they're—"

"No, Klinky. I'm worried about my new boy."

"Oh… him. He's safe."

"You don't even know where he is," Harklight told him, before getting jabbed in the stomach.

"He's definitely safe, in my bunker."

"I thought you didn't have a bunker?" Barry asked.

"I built one. Today. Convenient, no?"

x x x

Away from Slaine's view, the Princesses and Eddelrittuo were running for cover while more assassins ran into shoot them, only to get shot themselves. The life of an Earthling assassin varies from meat shield to redshirt, with nary a way out of the spectrum.

While the assassins were busy not being deadly, Inaho also ran, potentially to shoot something into Asseylum if the cards were right. He used Ogle Maps to find where she was, but using that app only gave him a headache. Now even the most basic functions gave Inaho a near aneurysm. Maybe he should have updated his eye before he came here, but who updates anymore besides obsessive-compulsives? Whatever the case, he needed to find the Princess, and then find a bed or a bathroom or whatever to perform the appropriate copulations. Inaho was not the one who thought third dates out.

x x x

Meanwhile, Barry unleashed his special technique upon the UFE Kataphrakts, in that he sliced them apart with his purple yoyo! You might find that silly, but after electric asses and quantum cloning, all the good superpowers were gone by the time Barry got the chance to get one. He had to make do with what was available, and that was yoyos. Yoyos were like maces, but more fun to throw. Anyway…

x x x

The Princesses continued running for safety, despite having run around in circles for the last hour. This was all going fine until one of Lemrina's wheels caught itself between some floor tiles.

"Damn it!" she said. "This means I have to wait an extra second for this chair to move. Help me."

Robo-Asseylum threw her necklace at her.

"That didn't help."

"Your continuing to live does not help either!"

Just as Lemrina got her chair back to even ground, assassins came out to shoot them. But just as they appeared, the wall between them closed almost as if someone willed the Princesses' defenses up.

"Well that fucked up our route. Now where do we go? And where's Dorito?"

"The small human female is under my dress!"

"Is she having a fun time down there?"

"Mmfh!" Eddelrittuo said.

Robo-Asseylum squeezed her thighs together to prevent her subject from making any more noise. "Her short stature prevents her head from tingling me!"

They kept on running, even without their guards to ask for directions, or any way of knowing they weren't running into crossfire. Honestly, their best situation would be to pull out some of the floor tiles and build a makeshift tunnel in the hopes none of the Earth forces notice why there's a sudden hidey-hole in the middle of the halls.

"So what do we now?" Lemrina asked.

"We fight!" Robo-Assseylum said.

"With what?"

"We shall throw your Mark II Travel Machine at our enemies!"

"Then how the fuck will I stay with you guys if I don't have my chair?"

"You can crawl!"

"You can't even piggyback me to safety? I thought we were sisters."

"Piggybacking is an infantile concept!"

"Yeah, you're too high and mighty to carry your sister to safety."

Robo-Asseylum glared at her sister, like how a militant carnivore finds out their grandchild became an organic market shareholder.

"So it's gonna be like that, right?"

Eddelrittuo almost said something to mediate the situation but Robo-Asseylum stomped on her feet, proving once and for all that she didn't need physical therapy since the de-tubing.

"I guess I'll go my own way, then."

"You choose to leave?! Like a coward?!"

"Yeah, like a coward, because that's better than being whatever you are, you fucking psycho."

She moonwalked, or moonrolled if that was the proper term, away from Robo-Asseylum and into another hall, which was promptly locked since even the moonbase could sense these two needed some time apart.

Lemrina didn't know what she was going to now that she locked herself between a wall and ensuing death, but she knew everyone preferred her dead at this point. Who knows? Maybe Harklight will rescue her and give her the happy life she never had, or she can die and mock Slaine while down in Martian hell. Either would be nice.

x x x

Before Inaho was about to turn this moonbase into a poonbase, a stray bullet hit past his left arm.

"Look alive, red eye guy!"

Slaine wanted to greet Inaho the way he did last time they were in the same room together, but Inaho wouldn't have any of it. He hid behind some containers; having somehow thought the Princess would be at the docking bay instead of at a secure location. He was half-right.

Inaho shot back in hopes that he could repel the menace, but at this inopportune time, his precise aiming app was down, preventing him from making anything even close to a graze. Slaine couldn't hit either, but he didn't have a cyber disability to latch on to as an excuse. He was just that bad of a shot by nature. If he knew how to shoot, we wouldn't be in this whole mess, now would we?

"Why are you here?" Slaine asked. "Why is it always you?!"

"I want Princess Asseylum," Inaho said. "You have Princess Asseylum. It would appear natural our paths would cross many times."

"Well fucking phooey to you, because I don't know where she is anymore."

"Shit," Slaine thought. "I wasn't supposed to say that."

"No you weren't," the Saazbiote said. "That's why you still need my charisma to assimilate."

"Shut up, dad!" he said out loud. "You have as much charisma as tin man there."

"Your father is here?" Inaho asked.

"Stay out of this!"

"But prior articles suggested that Dr. Troyard passed away."

"Not that father," the Saazbiote said through Slaine's mouth.

"You have two fathers?"

"Three, if you count Cruhteo. Tee-hee!"

Saazslaine shot extra rounds, not at Inaho, but at the ceiling in hopes it would collapse and put the host body out of its misery. Of course, he managed to miss at doing that and instead hit the same red container hiding Inaho. Pity the red container, and its many bouts of abuse at the hands of Slaine.

"What happened to Princess Asseylum?" Inaho asked, reloading his gun in case.

"That's what I was figuring out before you came in!"

"I know the Princess you use in propaganda broadcasts is a fake. Explain why."

"Why? Why should I explain to you when I'm about to kill you?"

"Because you have nothing better to discuss."

"We're not chit-chatting, Inaho! This is war! And war's where you die!"

"You are fortunate you are facing me, because another soldier would have mocked you for that sentence."

Angered, Slaine ran into Inaho's direction in the hopes to shoot him point blank. For some reason, Inaho also had the same idea. Even when mere inches away from each other, both missed their shots. One imagines if Rayet, Inko, or even Calm were put in this situation, Slaine would have died by now.

"Just die already! Leave me alone with my Princess!"

"Why are you using Princess Asseylum for your own ends?"

"Because—wait, I asked you that same question two years ago!"

"I do not recall."

"Yeah, I saved your life, and then we talked about the Princess, and then you shot me and left me at the hands of Cruhteo. So that means… you're behind all of this!"

"I remember you shooting first."

"That was after you said you were using the Princess as a means to an end!"

"Such as what you are doing now?"

"No, it's completely different!"

"How is this situation different? You are enacting the same action you did two years ago when you tried to shoot me."

"No! No, no, no! What I am doing now is better than anything you've done!"

"…Are you frustrated?"

"Aaaaagh!"

Slaine looked to his right and found the Tharsis. Elated by the idea of stomping on Inaho, he went to the Kataphrakt in the hopes of some potential squishing. What didn't cross Slaine's mind was Inaho using all of that prep time to get away and find the plot device Princess. Blast, the young lord thought. Maybe he could tear through the docking bay and fire into one of the halls in the hopes Inaho would die in the wreckage, but even the Saazbiote thought that was too stupid. Instead, Slaine consoled himself by stomping and shooting at some random agents who happened to be nearby.

x x x

"Hmphr Phrnprh!"

Eddelrittuo finally plucked her body out of Robo-Asseylum dress, letting out a huge breath. It almost felt like a reward after being smothered for so long, like a warm summer breeze after being locked in a hellish prison. The feeling almost made her forget that an assassin was about to shoot her.

Again proving that the base has some perverse desire to protect the Princess, a seal locked between the assassin and Eddelrittuo's face before the latter could go splat all over Robo-Asseylum's dress. That afterthought made the Princess quite disappointed, and had to settle for imagining the thought of Eddelrittuo's brain matter covering her clothes.

But just as they continue running off into another hall, they came across the decrepit body of—

"Inaho Kaizuka!" Robo-Asseylum said, running off to see someone she could have referred to as friend if her brain was weak enough to use such a term.

Eddelrittuo wanted to call Robo-Asseylum back in case this was a trap, but at this point, the Princess getting injured would be a plus.

"Seylum," he said. "I have located you."

"Correct, you have located me!"

"Can we… perform the coitus?"

"We are in the midst of a battlefield, and you want to perform coitus?!"

"The sex would become more exciting if potential death was on our minds. It would save time for any physical preparation."

"I refuse to perform intercourse at this moment!"

"But I arrived at this destination specifically for that purpose."

"Hearing you both talk is like listening to a text-to-speech fanfic," Eddelrittuo thought. She would have said it outright, but she liked being able to move the left side of her body.

Before Robo-Asseylum could continue screaming at her love, Inaho closed his eyes, proving unresponsive to any death threats his beloved Princess could manage. For a moment, Robo-Asseylum almost felt something resembling sadness at this, almost as if she didn't want Inaho to die… peacefully.

But then his right eye opened!

"Inaho Kaizuka is awake?!"

"Princess Asseylum Vers Allusia, identity confirmed. System updating."

"Why are you speaking in lowborn dialects?!"

"Oh heavens, I could ask the same for you, you twit."

The voice coming out of Inaho's mouth sounded nothing like him, instead resembling a snide Croydon accent. Did someone pull a Saazbiote on Inaho now?

"Oh, don't worry. Your boytoy is perfectly safe and sound, just sleepy thanks to overusing me."

"Who is this and what have you done to Inaho Kaizuka?!"

"Ooh! This body has ears, you know. And they hurt when you scream."

Before Robo-Asseylum yelled again, Eddelrittuo kneeled to Inaho and said, "Oh, pardon the Princess. But she's wondering what exactly are you?"

"Oh, that's easy. I'm a back-up program, installed in Inaho's database to prevent any hacking from outside forces. Consider me a housekeeper, except housekeepers at least receive tips for their work."

As Robo-Asseylum growled, Eddelrittuo continued, "Well since you're a computer, can you help us figure out a way to safety?"

"There's an airlock near here where you can meet the Deucalion crew. I know that sounds like a hard sell, but you're chances of help anywhere else are as bright as this kid."

Eddelrittuo sighed, while Robo-Asseylum bit her lower lip.

"On the plus side, you have four hundred and twenty seconds until help arrives. And no, I am not making a cannabis joke, because that would suggest this body has gotten high in the last year."

"Thank you, computer! Now Princess, to the airlock!"

She dragged Robo-Asseylum, who was like an unruly boy forced into doing their mother's errands.

"Oh, and good luck. You'll need it, you twits."

x x x

Immediately after that, the two ignored the computer's directions and instead found Count Klinklang. Let this be a lesson not to forget one's directions, or else you'll turn an irritating love triangle into a loathsome love square. Be wary, or some forgotten plot threads will turn it into a love pentagram.


End file.
